CIHM 

ICMH 

Microf'^he 

Collection  de 

Series 

microfiches 

(Monographs) 

(monographies) 

Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microredroductions/lnstitut  canadien  de  microreprcductions  historiques 


\^^^E   ^^  I    A I    «  I    M 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibhographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 

I     7    Coloured  covers  / 

I   '■     i 

— ^    Couverture  de  couleur 


□    Covers  damaged  / 
Couverturp  pnrlnm 


D 


Couverture  endommagee 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pelliculee 

Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  geographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
Planches  el/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  matehal  / 
Relie  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  edition  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion  along 
interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serree  peut  causer  de 
I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge 
interieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have  been 
omitted  from  filming  /  Use  peut  que  certaines  pages 
blanches  ajoutees  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  lorsque  cela  etait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  ete  filmees. 

Additional  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppiementaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilme  le  meilleur  exemplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
ete  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire qui  sjnt  peut-etre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification  dans  la  metho- 
de  normale  de  filmage  sont  indiques  ci-dessous. 

I I    Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I I    Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommagees 

1      I    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
! '    Pages  restaurees  et/ou  pelliculees 


7~|  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 

1— i  Pages  decolorees,  tachetees  ou  piquees 

j I  Pages  detached  /  Pages  detachees 

j  ,y1  Showthrough  /  Transparence 

I    /<  Quality  of  print  varies  / 

i i  Qualite  inegale  de  I'impression 


Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata  slips, 
tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  totalement  ou 
partieilement  obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une 
pelure,  etc.,  ont  ete  filmees  a  nouveau  de  faqion  a 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant  ayant  des 
colorations  vanables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
filmees  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  meilleure  image 
possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below  / 

Ce  document  est  filme  au  taux  de  reduction  indique  ci-dessous. 


lOx 

14x 

18x 

22x 

26x 

30x 

12x 

16x 

20x 

24x 

7Rv 

lOv 

The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of 


L'exemplaire  film^  fut  reproduit  grace  A  la 
g^n6rosit6  de. 


University  de  Montreal 


University  de  Montreal 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  priniud  puper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin.  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  c*e 
fiimage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  an 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  filmds  en  commenv:ant 
par  le  premier  plat  at  an  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  commandant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  paga  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symbbles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symboia  — ♦■  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  pauvent  etre 
filmds  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  filmd  A  partir 
de  Tangle  sup^rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammas  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

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5 

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ANSI  ond   ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2 


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NATURE   LYRICS 


AND  0TF1HR    POEMS 


R  V 


MARTHA   MARTIN 

"inJ  H'hiit   ir   n;  It   It    writ 
II  'itild  It  uYvv  -a'  ,t:hi.i."  —H\:r,ri 


|O^ARTIetVeRlTATr|p 


BOSTON 

RICHARD  G.   BAD(;KR 

Stir  (Sarlptu  {Irroa 


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CT-jte  jors  •-gggiKna  i„  Mil  II  !<■  1  <w<>WfcA>i 


(Copyright  1906  by  Martha  Martin 
AH  Rights  Reserved 


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The  Gorham  Press,  Boston 


Dedicated  to  My  Mother 


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mm."w: 


COMKNTS 


Sonnet 

Sunday 

Christmas  Morning 

St.  Valentine 

Trust 

April 

Song 

Spring's  Anakcning 

Slumber  Song 

The  Nun 

Mind  and  Heart 

Two  Pictures 

A  Snow-Flake 

To- 

yiolets 

The  f fluid's  Lament 

IVe  Three 

November 

The  Orphan's  Prayer 

Death-Music 

A  Song  of  Spring 


9 
9 

10 

II 

12 

»3 
14 

15 

15 

16 

17 
18 

18 
19 

20 
20 
21 
22 
22 

23 
24 


■"•m-ff^rtwvr  . ,— 1 


The  Push  into  Heaven 

Pride  and  Humility 

Spring 

Song 

Out  of  the  Night 

'  'Jnd  Did  the  Little  Flour) 

Christmas  Bells 

The  Bee  and  the  Rosi 

Love  fVill  Last 

To  a  Caged  Bird 

A  Neiv  Tears  Eve 

Love's  Eternity 

St.  Valentine's  Day 

A  Dream 

An  Evening  Prayer 

Ode  to  the  Moon 

Fireflies 

Autumn  Meditation 

To  — 

Saint  Augustine  and  the  Bo 

To  a  Crow 

The  Legend  of  the  Rose 

The  First  Snoiv 

A  Singer 

Hollyhocks 

Easter  Hopes 

An  Autumn  IV md 

To  a  Housed  Hyacinth 

Compensations 

Evening  Hymn 

Emigravit 

To  a  Butterfly 

The  Heart 


>  />ut  Knou" 


24 
26 

27 
28 

29 

JO 
JO 

31 
32 

32 

33 

3^ 
37 
38 
?"> 
40 

41 

42 

43 
45 

46 

4^ 
48 

50 
51 
52 
52 
54 
54 
55 
56 
57 


^;^y;^2T»r^'-'mm'ro>'i.m^^^  _^^^_ 


The  End  of  Da\ 
A  Song  of  Heaven 
Christmas  Eve 
Sonnet — Winter 
A  Sunshouer 
Field  Daisies 
The  Robber  Zaun 
Everlastings 
Sonnet — Death 
Spring  and  Death 
Parsifal 

Summer  Twilight 
Cupid's  Garden 
Solitude 
The  Legend  of  the  Moon 
Nothing  u'lthout  Love 
It  IS  July 
The  Easter  Gospel 
Song 

The  Christmas  Star 
Laura 

Christmas  Echoes 
Snowflakes  and  Snowdrop 
Song 

Disturb  it  not 
The  Spanish  Beggar-Boy 
To  the  Dying  Year 
Migration 
And  it  was  Night 
Cupid's  Theft 
And  it  was  Day 
Premonitions 
Nocturne 


5^ 
5^ 
59 
59 
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6o 

6! 

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68 
68 
6q 

70 
71 


7.^ 

74 
74 
75 
7(^ 
11 
7« 
78 

79 
80 

80 


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^  Hi 


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mutummum 


mmmmiuumiiMmmmaMtikiSSm 


To  a  Rose 

To  the  Spritii^ 

Reconciliatioti 

Sonnet-    N 1  gilt 

Spring's  Prophi'ix 

MaJelinr 

fVhercpjre 

To  a  FloiL-rr 

My  Dead 

A  Legend  oj  If'mtii 

Evening  at  Musknkf. 


I.ahrs 


Si 
8i 
82 
83 

83 

84 

84 

85 

86 

87 
8S 


:*^P'p'M!H«iHitjriif!t»iif'»in»w>f..M!m''M. 


'*\*'-^f*-i^m***^'Hn^^\t*)\rtr^^^^^^ 


SONMl 


tar  down  the  wtstcin  slope  the  weniy  day 
Looks  out  upon  the  world  with  dreamy  cyts. 
As  o'er  lier  sunnv  curls  she  iooseh  ties 
Her  crimson  liood,  and  f;enilv  slips  awav; 
Meanwhile  from  out  the  east  the  twiii;^ht  grey 
Lini^ers  a  moment,  nil  jhe  enihracing  skies 
F.nfold  iiei — for  the  solemn  Nii;iu  doth  rise, 
Descending  like  a  monk  in  dark  anav 
()i  lontj,  black,  Howinj;  gown,  and  piouslv 
He  utters  pravers  in  soft,  low  niurmurings; 
I  hen  l.arrh  takes  up  her  dewdroji  rosar\. 
And  contrite  at  his  feet  herself  slie  tlings. 
While  on  the  altar  of  blue  Heaven  higli, 
Fach  little  star  a  golden  eeiisor  swings. 


^^^"[)A^• 


in  the  valley  deep  and  lowl\ 

Breathes  a  heave"l\-  Sahharh   [uaee; 
On  the  silent  hills  so  holv. 

Voices  hid  all  tumult  c(  ase. 

And  the  halihling  brooklet  rushini; 

With  impetuous  hurrN-  h\ . 
Leaping,   sparkhng.   gurgling,   gushing, 

Murmurs  centK-,  "(loti  i,  nii^h.'" 

Zephyrs,  on  their  tliglit  so  airv. 
Waft  their  message  from  above; 

Whispering  softiv,  never  wearv. 
"Ciod  is  full  of  i;race  and  love." 


r, 


V     '■ 


Little  birds,  tlieir  sv.ift  eo.ir.-e  winging. 
Send  their  offerings  to  the  sk\  , 


9 


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In  their  sweetest  rich  tones  singing 
Songs  of  praise  to  him  on  high. 

And  a  holy  calm  is  stealing 
Over  all  the  Larth  ro-day, 

<jod,  Himsilt'  to  man  revealing, 
I'ointing  out  the  heavenly  way. 


CHRISTMAS  MORNING 

Oh!  the  joy  of  Christmas  morning. 

1  hrough  the  keen  and  frosty  air, 
Bells  ring  out  the  birth  of  Jesus, 

Welcome  tidings  everywhere. 

What  a  gift  the  world  receiveth 
With  the  coming  of  His  reign; 

Peace,  good-will,  to  men  He  bringeth — 
Paradise  on  earth  again. 

Heart  to  heart  responds  in  gladness. 
Loving  deeds  are  spread  abroad, 

Drawing  nearer  to  his  neighbor, 
•Man  draws  nearer  unto  God. 

With  what  tributes  shall  we  honor 
Christ,  the  Lord,  who  is  our  king. 

On  this  holiest  birthday  morning, 
What  shall  be  our  offering.' 

Love,  obedience,  faith,  we  bring  Him, 
As  the  great,  wise  men  of  old 

Brought  their  costly  gifts  to  Jesus, 
Myrrh,  and  frankincense,  and  gold. 

Come,  oh,  Christ-child,  dwell  within  us, 
Lft  our  hearts  Thy  manger  be, 

10 


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Where  we  may  in  adoration. 
Consecrate  our  lives  to    1  hec. 

Oh!  the   joy  of  Christmas   morning, 
Through  the  keen  and  frosty  air. 

Bells  ring  out  the  birth  of  Jesus, 
Welcome   tidings   everywhere. 


ST.  VALENTINK 
I 

St.  Valentine  was  an  old  locksmith  by  trade 
Who  lived  in  a  district  near  Rome, 

He  owned  a  small  shop  to  which  -ear  after  year. 
The  youths  of  the  village  would  come. 

II 

For  here  in  this  shop  hung  for  all  who  would  buy. 
Strings  of  wonderful  magical  ke}s 

With  power  to  unlock  any  fair  maiden's  heart, 
Ihe  youth  it  might  happen  to  please. 

Ill 

But  only  once  yearly  these  keys  were  for  sale, 

So  he  who  a  maiden  would  win, 
Must  needs  on  the  fourteenth  of  February  go 

To  purchase  from  St.  \'alentine. 


IV 


And  thousands  of  ke}s  on  that  morning  were  sold. 
As  each  ardent  youth  thither  flocked, 


11 


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Affections  were  plighted  and  love  pledges  made, 
As  hearts  ail  rebponsive  unlocked. 


IJut  tiiese  davs  are  over,  the  dear  Saint  is  dead, 

Sweet  maids  not  so  easily  won, 
A  race  of  winged  Cupids  to  earth  has  come  down, 

And  love's  work  is  differently  done. 


VI 


A  how  and  a  quiver  of  arrows  they  bear, 
These  swift  sportive  boys,  at  their  side. 

And  fiercely  they  aim  at  each  tender  young  heart, 
I  heir  shafts  fl\ing  off  far  and  wide. 


vn 


Ihey  wound,  hut  they  kindle  the  flame  of  true  love 


Xo 


arrow  e  er  pierces  in  vain, — 


Alas!  that  no  heart  can  be  conquered  these  days. 
Without  some  infliction  of  pain. 


FRUST 

I  know  not  if  beyond  the  blue 

-And  ever-placid  sky, 
A  home  of  perfect  love  and  peace 

Awaits  me  when  I  die, 

Where  sin  and  darkness  are  no  more. 

Nor  man  shall  grieve  nor  sigh. 
And  God  will  wipe  away  the  tears 

From  ever)  mortal  eye; 


12 


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Where  Christ  shall  bid  the  weary  soul 

Sore-laden  and  oppressed, 
To  come  to  him,  and  he  will  give 

Them  sweet,  eternal  rest. 

I  know  not  if  Death  bears  away 
Our  loved  ones  to  that  goal. 

Nor  if  the  circle  broken  here 
Be  in  that  home  made  whole. 

Bur  this  I  know;  that  God  is  love. 

He  lives  and  cares  for  all; 
Our  souls  are  his,  our  bodies,  too, — 

He  guards  us,  great  and  small. 

Thus,  while  no  more  to  mortal  sight 
Our  loved  one  doth  appear, 

I  known  that  it.  God's  arm  of  love 
He  lives  from  year  to  year. 

In  filial  reverence,  I  yield 

Unto  my  Father's  will. 
Conscious  that  he  is  wise  and  good, 

I  live,  and  trust  him  still. 


APRU. 

Offspring  of  Spring,  thou  whose  iife-givmg  breath 
Wakens  the  earth  from  her  long-seeming  death, 
Winter  has  fled  at  the  sight  of  thv  face. 
Hail,  O  thou  month  full  of  beautv  and  grace' 

Blithely  the  robin,  in  gay  plumage  dressed, 
Chirps  to  his  mate,  busied  weaving  her  nest. 
Swallows,  long  absent,  their  flight  hither  wing, 
Happy  to  welcome  thee,  sweet  child  of  Sprinir. 


■1  .: 


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13 


liiids  of  hriuhr  promise  burst  Forth  from  tach  tree; 
Violet  und  Miowilrop  pcip  out  smilinKi) ; 
Ht-avtn  broods  fondiv  o'er  tiirtli.  like  .1  dovi-; 
KMrvthinf;  livm^  tells  only  of  lo\e. 

Aprd,  thou  babe  full  of  laughter  and  tears, 
Intiocent  art  tliou  of  man's  griefs  and  f«  ars: 
Buoyant,  liKlu-hearted,  tliy  da\s  j;lide  away, 
Hloominj;  at  length  into  flowerv  Mav. 


S(  )N( ; 


( r  roni  ill,'  a,  t  > 


■-/  H.iu,) 


I 


1  he  light  blue  eyes  of  :  miiing  Spring 
Peep  out  among  the  grass; 

1  hese  are  the  sweet  young  violets 
I  gather  as   I   pass. 


II 


I  gather  them  while  yearnmg  thoughts 

Rise   in   my   heart   anon. 
And  all  my  thoughts  the  nightmgale 

Smgs  our   ;n   loudest   tone. 

Ill 

^'es,  loudly  warbl'S  she  my  thoughts. 

So  that  they  echo  too; 
Mv  tender  secret  now  is  known 

I  he  wliole  wide  forest  through. 


14 


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»«!««iJtt»»»#f  ii«fpwi0j  f  p^  ..f 


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SPRING'S  AWAKKNINC; 


Above  the  ground  they  raise  their  heads. 

Blue  violet  and  anemone, 
I'roclaiming  from  their  earrhv  heds 

New  life,  and  more  jhundantly. 

The  winter  storms  are   all   fo. 

And  snowflakes  vanish  one  by  one. 
Melting  in  tears  as  they  are  shot 

By  golden  arrows  of  the  sun, 

The  very  bosom  of  Heaven  on  high 

Is  heaving  with  fresh,  conscious  breath; 

And  birds  in  choirs  sing  out  and  cry, 
There  is  no  death,  there  is  no  death. 


fl 


SLUMBER  SONG 

Sleep,  my  darling;  sleep,  my  son. 
Close  thine  eyes,  my  little  one. 

Nestled  at  thy  mother's  breast, 
Be  at  rest,  at  rest. 

All  about  us  is  so  still, 

And  the  sun  far  down  the  hill. 

Blowing  out  his  great,  red  light. 
Calls  '  good-night,  good-night.  ' 

Cradled  on  thy  mother's  arm. 

Nought  shall  come  to  thee  cf  harm, 

Hush  my  baby,  sink  to  sleep, 
Soft  and  deep,  and  deep. 

Birds  into  their  nests  have  flown, 
Weary  flowers  their  heads  hang  down. 


I 

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Stars  shine  .iiiiily  in  fiu  •-kv. 
Ki)ck-.i-f)\c,  ,1-1. \,. 

Kulid^.lr.,..|H-,l  .iM.l  duiks  <|i.i,i.  flushf, 
Sor  inv  chilli  in  <lrcams  now  hushed, 

^\ir-h  n'rr  him.  kiml  i'..u,r  ;.hovc 
Uirh  (l,v  luNf,    ll.v  |,n,-. 


I  I  IK   \IN 


iiirl 

11 


;<•  'l'"^'  a,r,^.,..r  :,,r,!..n  stole  one  eve  a  virgm  nun. 
"'■  "'"•■"  ^-..-r  .11  Its  ravs  upon  her  as  she  walked 


ll'illC, 


And  ..,!u.r  I..J.  ,  l^n^md  rears  of- silent,  tender  love. 
^M.'ch   she   hau   shed   u.r  one   whose  spirit   passed 
•nun  eaitli   rihove. 

Al.  ■   n^  ucl!  »;>,  n,e  ,!,ar  he  ha,  died,  that  taithAd  lover 


nuiK 


Kor  I 


'^'V  l,,ve  Inm  ever  more  with  love  pure  and 

l!e  .s  an_;,nf:el    u.lv,  einrhed  in  rohes  of  spotless  white 
And  ,r  s  not  wronj;  to  love  the  angels  of  celestial  h>ht.' 

W.tl,   r,..md   .rep   and   saddened   man.   she   moved   to 
«lierc  there  stond 


Ar 

Ihe 


An  ,ma:,e  of  St.  Mary  bea.nm^  m  the  light  of  God. 
■"■  nu,onl.,lu  threw  a  halo  o'er  her  saintly,  sacred 

head. 


She  looked  wirh  such  a  n„ld  and  kin.llv  love  u 
the  maul. 


ly,  sacred 
pon 


It) 


''?n''"''^tM'iiW!?H"'''*'''''"'''*'''-'ff'J^f''W"t»''<'M»!»tvi>r.'i)talw»-<Mi 


■»t*fiKi''t)mmimmnr%nuii'mit,^^.> 


J 


Ar  her  feet  tfu  pious  nuii  fill  down,  and  clasped  h»- 
h.'inds  in  prayer, 
Looked  up  in  calm  and  lieaveniy  peace  to  find  an 
answer  there; 
And  as  she  tends  lur  ^a/i  still  upwards  with  a  heart's 
true  faith, 
Her  flowing;  veil  enslnoud^  her,  and  her  eyelids  closf 
in  death. 


MINI)  AND  HKAK! 

A  quarrel  rose  'twixt  Mind  and  Heart, 
And  both  agreed  that  they  would  part. 

Reserved  and  cold,  .Mind  his  way  went 
To  joy  and  pain  indifferent; 

In  vain    to  win  men's  grace  he  strove. 
In  vain — as  lie  was  void  of  love. 

And  Heart,  impulsive,  unrestrained — 
No  favour  fiom  :he  world  obtained; 

Her  nature  passionate  and  hot 

Was  checked  by  neither  sense  nor  thought. 

And  so,  ar  lengrli,  both  Mind  and  Heart 
Declare  they  cannot  live  apart. 

(.inked  hand-in-hand  their  course  must  lie 
io  make  life's  perfect  harmony. 


'4 

-an 


I 

-l 


11 


17 


»■; 


/fill 


IWC)  IMCll'RKS 


I 


Whtn  lt.ivin<;  mv  Ikihh-  for  a  \oyam- 
lw«  patiiiis  1  larriid  with  me, 

I  ht  one  was  the  niothtr's  swttt  liktntss, 
1  111'  (itlivi  iiiv  cluUlrii   iluct. 


II 


I  brought  tlusi-  to  nb.Mtn  ;md  ihtcr  me, 
When  lonliniss  in  tii<  would  rise, 

\  er  wliy  when  I  f;.i/e  on  these  ("aces 
Do  hot  fears  rush,  Hwdins  "'y  tycs  ? 


\  SNf)\V-l  LAKK 

l)aint\   little  snow-thike, 

Murterins;  thioujjh  the  air 
I  ill  vou  lie  upon  tile  ground 

White  and  pure  and  fair. 
Hut  the  sun  is  sHinlni;  now, 

■^'ou  are  pone  again. 
Itil  nie,  starry  snow-flake, 

Was  \our  life  in  vain  ? 

liigh  ideals  and  prospects 

I  ilicd  my  longing  soul, 
N'obie  aims  ard  deeds  I  planned 

As  my  wished  for  goal. 
Hut  hy  unforeseen  events 

All  iny  hopes  are  slain; 
1  hen  I  wonder  whether 

Striving  is  in  vain. 


IS 


• 'i*>«(i  *tf  itttniKMi!  iTi^i(»nH^r4ifii«<Hln<7  iNiiinirMii  (I  itffju  MM 


i, 


lO 

1  In-  I  .nth  IS  \tili(i  m  twiliulits  ^loor. 

I  lu-  •>un's  nil  li;:lit  i>  (;c)iu, 
Ami  in  rlu'  snllmss  luri-  1  ii.um- 

\loiic,  .iloiir. 

M\  nimil  ilwills  lorullv  o'tT  tin   I'.isf. 

W'lun  I  iittiiiu'  >;avc  tht-  boon 
Of  a  ilr.li  fmnd,  wlio  Itfr  inc,  :ili! 

I  (lo  sunn,  tiH)  voon. 

'I  vsas  m  rlu'  Sprin^-tinn-  v\i   hist  mrf. 

My   (;infli"   friciul   ami    I, 
And  oh!  how  liappilv  tlic  hours 

Ihu    hv,   tUw   h\' 

But  I'atf  has  s(f  us  far  apart. 
And  here,  wirhiii  my  iionu-. 
So  ofnn  nirvs  I  Ions  for  lur 
1  o  coniv  conif. 

Shall  1  i;a/.i'  in  those  soiiH'ul  tyis. 
And  clasp  that  hand  a<;ain  r 

Or  si    us,  tin   tirilliani  Star  of  Hopt', 
In  va;n,  m  vain  ' 

I  lamiot  ti'l,  hut  trust  that  yet 

I'nitid   I    '-hall   hv. 
In  I'osL-r  fricndshij),  warmer  lo\c. 

With  tlue.  \Mth  thif. 

And  though  hot  ttais  mule  evt!ds  fill, 

"All  wofkeih  for  the  best;" 
C'ontdit,  we  love  each  other  sfil', 

I    rest,   I    rest. 


. 


i 


19 


I, J 


VIOLETS 

Voilets  of  the  early  springtime, 
From  your  moist  and  earthy  beds, 
I  have  come  this  morn  to  take  you, 
In  a  pretty  nosegay  make  you, 
Do  not  sadly  hang  your  head:. 

All  your  sisters  and  your  brothers 
Shall  be  gathered  by  me,  too. 
Those  in  dresses  white,  so  snow^, 
And  the  purple  ones  more  showy, 
Crowned  with  gems  of  sparkling  dew. 

There  I  have  you  all  together. 
Fragrant  flowers,  shy  and  sweet! 
I  shall  take  you  to  a  maiden 
Pale  and  helpless  and  care-laden. 
With  what  joy  she  you  will  greet! 

'Tis  your  mission,  lovely  violets, 
To  delight  the  eve  of  man; 
And  where'er  a  heart  you  brichten. 
liy  your  presence  some  load  lighten. 
You  fulfil   life's  highest   plan. 


THE  WIND'S  LAMENT 

Alas!  sad  wind,  what  grief  is  thine, 
(hat  thou  dosi  evermore  repine  ? 
In  vain  I  long  to  have  thee  cease. 
What  sorrow  robs  thee  of  thy  peace. 
That,  rushing  on  with  heaving  breast, 
I  hy  aching  heart  can  find  no  rest .' 


20 


•1mT«.M|U!Mi.|«iljiH!!«<..i||frt»rtlf»tri«!ii«'l»*)i!<l»Mn!»i.!^ 


%h 


d\ 


And  doth  the  chaste-eyed  daisy  know 
I  he  secret  cause  of  all  thy  woe  ? 
I-or  she,  with  sigtis  drawn  full  and  deep, 
Hath  wept  herself  at  length  to  sleep; 
While  on  her  lashes  long  and  white 
An  undried  tear  lies  glistening  bright. 

The  stars,  fair  birds  of  paradise, 
In  (locks  are  scattered  through  the  skies. 
Their  gentle  slumbers  broken  by 
The  woful  tenor  of  thy  cry; 
And  so  these  poor,  half-frightened  things 
I-  hitter  all  night  their  golden  wings. 

.\rt  thou  then  doomed  to  wander  on. 
In  never-ending  w.ul  and  moan  ? 
.Art  thou  pursued  by  some  dire  fate, 

I'hat  brings  thte  to  this  frenzied  state  ? 
Say,  wind,  what  unknown  grief  is  thine. 

That  thou  dost  evermore  repine  .' 


h 

if  ■  ! 


:;.'  i 


I 


I 


VVF.  THREE 

{T'andated  from  the  German) 

In  yonder  vale  a  little  flower, 

I  see  in  silent  sweetness  grow; 

And  that — art  thou. 


'1 


Within  its  cup  a  butterfly. 
Swings  to  and  fro  so  happily; 
And  that — is  he. 


V    il 


A  weeping  willow  over  both 
Bends  solemnly  its  branches  high. 
And    that — am  I. 

21 


NOVEMBFR 

1  he  leaves  npon  the  cold,  ..    nip  ^r^)und, 

All  brown  and  withered  lie, 
While  overhead  dull,  leaden  clouds 
Ohscure  the  bright,  blue  skv. 

1  he  naked  trees  stretch  forth  their  arir.s 

Protection    to    implore. 
And  wailing  winds  are  mourning  now, 
I  hat  summer  is  no  more. 

I  he  swollen  river  dark  and  detp. 

Moves  slowly  to  the  sea; 
While  Time  with  his  resistless  step 

Sinl-s  in  eternif\. 

Alas  poor  earth!  that  latelv  shone 

In  richest,  rosiest  bloom: 
In  this  thy  destined  end,  this  woe 

1  hy    melancholy    doom  ? 

Ah,  no!  when  winter's  spell  is  o'er. 

I  hy  face  will  smile  again, 
And  spring  with  new-born  joy  descend 

To  cheer  the  heart  of  man. 


THE  ORPHAN'S  PRA^  KR 

0  Father  of  fatherless  children 
Look  down  in  compassion,  I  pray, 

And  let  me  feel.  Lord,  that  thy  blessing 
Is  resting  upon  me  to-day. 

1  !iou   knowest    I    need   thy    protection, 

^or  other  save  thine  have  I  none; 


22 


rt*<»*'"'""'f'pfMtmii«hAif(fit{>W»iK!fiti»fii"»«imm 


1  htn  visit  me  in  my  affliction. 
An  orphan  lett  helpless  and  lone. 

Alone  must  I  live  to  encounter 

A  world  that  seems  heartless  and  cold. 

And  out  of  the  depths  I  am  Vailing 
"Uphold  me,  oh  Father,' uphold.  " 

For  'Fhou  art  the  infinite  pity. 
To  Thee,  every  creature  is  dear, 

'Fhine  arms  everlasting  surround  us, 

'I'hen  why  should  we  lose  faith,  or  fi  ;n 

1  mourn  for  the  loved  thou  hast  taken. 
Though  conscious  thy  will  is  the  best; 

1  mourn,  but  I  trust  in  thv  goodness. 
And  leave  to  thee.  Father,  the  rest. 


t 


DFATH-MUSIC 

(Translated  from  tli,\German  r,j   i  'lilatij  ) 

"What  music  wakes  me,  sweet  and  low 

Out   of  my   still    repose  r 
O  mother,  see!  dost  thou  not  know 

What  sounds  so  late  are  those  ?" 

"  1  can  hear  nought,  and  nought  I  see. 

Oh,  slumber  soft  and  mild! 
No  one  is  singing  now  to  thee. 

My  darling,  suifering  child." 

"Ni'  earthly  music  can  it  he 

That  makes  my  soul  delight: 
It  is  the  angels  calling  me, — 

O  mother  dear,  good-night. 

23 


^^,  .^  ,  ,,^  ^^  ^, 


A  nONC  i)V  S1'R1N(; 

Sprinji  lias  come  with  sprightly  footsteps. 

Lcrulin,';  joy  to  hill  and  ;;lcn. 
Da'Icd)!  and  purple  violet 

Bloom  out  from  the  soil  agaui. 

Spruij;  has  rome.      Kacli  tree  rejoices 
In  Its  budding  life  once  more: 

Karth  has  never  seemed  more  winsome. 
N'or  so  nigh  to  heaven  before. 

Happy  songs  of  thrush  and  linnet 
l-ill  the  sweetly  scented  ait; 

And  my  bosom  swells  with  gladness. 
Living  in  a  world  so  fair. 

V\eary   wanderer,  grievous   mourner. 
Let  all  care  and  sorrow  flee! 

t  ome,  oh,  come,  at  Spring's  kind  bidding, 
Join  the  sea.son's   jubilee! 


THE  PUSH  INTO  HEAVEN 

(From  tin-  I'l;^-  of  R„ii) 

In  the  town  of  Vienna  a  mansion  there  stands. 

1  o  which  a  strange  name  has  been  given, 
For  above  on  the  door,  on  a  tablet  of  stone,  ' 

Is  written.  '  The  push  into  Heaven. ' 
Once  there  dwelt  in  this  house,  so  the  story  relatev, 

A  woman  most  wondrously  fair. 
In  her  beantv  a  Venus— a  Juno  in  form, 

\Vi,h  whom  no  one  else  could  compare. 


■2\ 


r.)Vr^.rt1»..if<jl^ii,.WiMl.i,gg,jfitnW.f.!tl»SJ.i 


Bur,  alas!  till   lifi   prnli    i;ul  lur  s  amr\ ,  too, 

I  Icr  iia\  s  slu  would  ftintr  .;'v  a\' 
111  ai.lurn;n!;  lieisc't  sv^tli  lur  u'aiIs  ;hu1  iIkss, 

I  Iff  fntnils  to  until. >  ;n  (!i,|)la.. 
We'l,  one  rnidiii;;lu  a  kii"'.l;;;i  -  was  luaicl  at  thi-  door, 

She  openeil.  v.lien  wluit  d  d  slie  "-ee, 
!5ut  a  croiie  with  a  cfMtrh  and  a  basket  in  hand. 

Who  i-alied  out  m  toiii  -  irriuf/jitdy: 


iJ 


H 


Ha!  what  art  ■  om  '    i\\:i    and  voiir  tiner\  to  this  - 
See,  here,  all  in  i.r  m'oh  and  s^old!' 
And  site  held  our  a  roln-  d^^t]  a  girdle  most  rau  , 
That  dazzled  the  e'.e-  to  hchold. 
Oh,  but  fjive  rhc-e  to  nie, '  rhe  fair  unman  implored. 

Ant!  name  anv  prin-  that  \ou  please,' 
V'erv  well,"  said  the  iiri';,  '  1  a  bar^.iin  will  i-.iake, 
Ihoui'Ii  nione'.   sb.all  ni>r  be  rhe  ftes.' 


g 

,n 

E     '1 

I 


%.i. 


i    will   lend   \ou   tl.i^c   i;ai mints  for  three  da\  s   and 
ni;;hts 
If  on  rhe  tiiird  nrdni'rhr  \ou  pa\-. 
For  their  use  just  whatever  is  covered  bv  rhem, ' 

She  replied,  '  I  will  do  as  you  sav." 
So  for  three  da\  s  and  ni<:;hts  rhis  proud  wduian  was 
seen 
Arra'.eJ  in  her  splendor  of  dres, 
She  was  envied  !n  court  ladies,  princesses,  too. 
Nor  whence  came  such  clothes  couhi  rhe\'  <'uess. 


Hut  at  last  It  was  o\(r,  rhe  hour  drew  near. 
The  bnr'jain  so  siranije  mu^r  be  made, 

Hjik  forehodints  and  fears  now  p     scsed  our  proiui 
dame. 
Some  horrible  plot  had  been  laid. 

So  she  hastened  to  throw  off  the  borrowed  red  robe, 
Ah'.s'  It  duns  ro  her:   in  vain 


t 


25 


51 


f 


>H 


iJi.i  slu'  ilunh  at  and  nar  at  the  brilliant  light  folds 
1  lu'  dtiss  upon  lit  r  would  remain. 

All  In  r  past  lift-  of  tolly  and  pride  now  returned, 

I  oo  late  she  rtpcnted  htr  sin, 
I  or  the  clock  had  struck  twelve  and  the  door  opened 
wide, 

I  he  hafi,  laugliinij  wildly,  walked  in. 
'  it  IS  you  whom  mv  dress  covers,  girl,  vou  are  mine, ' 

1  he  har;  into  Satan  then  grew, 
WhHe  a  flame  rose  and  turned  the  red  garb  into  fire, 

i  he  poor  stricken  dame  burning,  too. 

in  dispair  to  Saint  Barbara  loudly  she  called, 

.And  vowed  to  repent  of  her  pride, 
I  o  become  a  pure  Ma<:dalen,  smiple  and  good, 

'  ()!  save  me,  Saint  H.irhara,'  she  cried. 
.And  behold,  the  Saint  heard  her,  for  Satan  in  glee. 

Was  seizing  the  victim  be  craved, 
When    Saint    Barbara    pushed    her   with    might    into 
Heaven, 

i  he  cock  crowed — the  woman  was  saved. 


PRIDK  AND  hU.MILITV 

.A  brown  caterpillar  was  creeping  one  day 

On  the  bough  of  a  linden-tiee, 
When  a  bright  yellow  butterfly,  passing  that  way, 

Alighted,  the  insect  to  see. 

How  ii'riv,  oh  dear!  and  how  clumsy  you  are. 

With  not  even  a  pair  of  wings! 
I'm  sure  to  be  dead  would  be  better  by  far 

ihrin  one  of  those  dark,  crawling  things." 


26 


Mj»6  lifim^t  »i«  j^l|?,^p«f,rtlfl|il  !(»(jnm»t11i«|iH»7|t«^ 


SI'RINC; 

Once  more  tlu-  titlds  art  ilad  in  <jrt(.n, 
rill'  skies  art-  hlue  and  fair. 

And  violets  sweet  their  fra^jranre  v. .itr 
I  hroughout  the  halm\'  air. 


"  '  i  IS  true,  pretiv  luiiterH'. ,  I  am  not  (air. 

Hut  am  lowly  and  liumMe  [i\  hirtli; 
^  et  for  some  usetul  purpose  I  sureK  am  here. 

My  place  1  must  till  on  the  earth." 

I  he  hutterflv  onlv   looked  seonitnl  and  said 

'■  See  my  heautiful  wings  of  <.'auze. 
i  can  Hy,  and  sip  food  from  whit    tlowi  rs  and  retl. 

Oh!   made  to  adorn  earth   I   wa^." 

lie  then  tiew  a\\a\  to  a  rose-hush  ip  h'c.om, 

Where  a  ho'.-  with  a  muslin  net 
C'aii:iht  the  hutterfli-  fast  in  its  fokis;   and  his  doom, 

Alas!   unexpected  he  nut, 

I  lie  meek  catet|5illar  had  slipped  out  of  siijht 

lill  he  woke  up  one  morn  in  Julv, 
In  a  state  of  such  ccstas\-,  io\-  and  delifiht, 
A  pearlv-winrjed,  white  hutterflv. 


^b 


Once  more  I  hear  the  hhthesome  hirds 

I'our  forth   their  happ\-   sons;, 
1  hev  winsj  their  flight  from  tree  to  trie, 
.And  carol  all  dav  long. 

^  ea,  all  the  earth  is  glad  and  hri^ht 
For  sprint;  has  come  again. 

Hit  ah!  her  heautv  and  her  charms 
(ireet  me  in  vain,  in  vain. 


?      i 


*4I 


I  hert-'s  one  dear  fact  I  loved  so  svell 

I  never  more  shall  see, 
So  do  not  wonder,  gentle  spring, 

I  find  no  jov  in  thee. 


S()N(; 


{From  till-  (irrrruin  nj  Kiiritci) 


1,  too  ish  maiden. 
Ah'  I  love  thee, 
And  know  not  even. 


if 


tliou  lovest  me! 


I  asked  tall  flowers. 

And  small  ones,  oh  ! 
I  hev  mostlv  answered. 

And  ro!d  me, '  No!'— 
1  liese  stupid  ilowers  have  n'er  heen  taught, 
W  hat  it  means,  what  it  means, 
1  le  loi'es  me  not. ' 

I.  foolish  maiden, 

Ah!  I  love  thee. 
And  fancy  ever. 

That  thou  lov'st  me. 
I  asked  mv  heart! — 

'  Cans't  thou  then  f^uess'  r 
It  answered  pladlv 

'  He  loves  thee — ves! 

Oh,  heart,  thou  knowest, 
'  I  hou  hest  cans't  see, 
'A'hat  it  means,  what  it  means, 

"He  loveth  me.' 


28 


-jy/<f|*fEi;«tt#f<tt«4((n'f«&>Tf}*fS|Fn 


:,s«iMnff?3mH^'>fif^f.m«fiil?^*4?i>8»*]fl|^ 


'I 


OUT  OF  THK  NIGH  1 

When,  with  flaming  torch  in  hand. 

Day  steals  softly  toward  the  west, 
Over  all  the  shadowy  land 

Gloom  and  darkness  rest, 
ihen  a  thousand  kindly  eyes, 

(jleaming  from  their  heights  above. 
[,ook  down  'neath  the  sombre  skies 

In  tender,  pitying  love. 
Holding  vigil  through  the  night 
Till  the  dawn  of  morning  light. 

When  the  world  lies  cold  and  hare. 

After  autumn's  swift  decay, 
Lo!  the  earth  grows  white  and  fair. 

As  in  blossoming  May. 
For,  from  flowers  that  bloom  on  high. 

Countless,  starry  petals  tall, 
I'ill  the  ground,  the  air,  and  sky. 

Until  they  cover  all. 
Winter  'neath  her  snowy  wing, 
Hiding  for  awhile  the  Spring. 

So,  in  human  life's  dark  hour. 

When  the  heart  seems  crushed  with  pain. 
Some  benign,  consoling  i'ovver 

Quickly  cheers  again. 
Oft  by  trials,  griefs,  and  wees 

Man  becomes  more  strong  and  brave. 
Readier  to  give  to  those 

Who  love  and  mercy  crave. 
Thus  earth's  deepest  sorrows  shine 
With  a  purpose  all  divine. 


29 


^r 


i 


Pi; 
>1        II 


I?. 


\M>   IHI)    I  III     I  111  II     I  |.()\Vi.ks   Ml 
KNOW  " 


{h<'iin   fli,    l!,i,n,in   ■,]   /I,  nil 


Anil  dill  tht   iittli  tliiv.iis  imr  know 

I  111    ;in';uisi)  rif  hi;    In  .nr, 
I  luir  fciis  would  simly  hill  .mil  How 

I  o  liial  ilif  wowndiil  pait. 

And  it'riu-  n!!;llfm^;||t^  Imr  knew 

Mv  hitiit  p;nn  ;inil  t;riil. 
I  Ihv  ^l.uil\   would  i(jnso!i-  nw  iluiuif;h 

i  lu'ir  son<;  -  .mil  hiui^  n  Inf. 

And  could  tisi-  guliiin  sr.ns  on  lii<.'li 

Bi-  lonsiioiis  (if  ni\   woe, 
1  li(\  would  i-onirout  ftoin  \()iidii  •,k\ 

I  o  lointoir  nu-  hi  low. 

Kiir  noru-oftluM  lan  know,  .ili  nul 
I  iu  I'.iusi  of  .ill  nu'  p.iiii; 

Ir  i^  Init  known  to  oni-,  ;ind  f/.v 
ll.ith  n  nr  nr   lu  ;iif  in  f\>..iin. 


(-■IIRI.^IMA.s  111  1.1, S 

C'liristmas  hells  .ire  nn>;nv;  ^ladK  , 
I.ct  all  luaits  rijoiic  rod.n  , — 

Christ  is  hoin,  niw  hope-  I!i'    hiin^th, 
C'hiisr,  who  is  rhf  trurh,  tht-  wa\. 

Now  to  larth  (iod's  Kuipdoni  lonuth. 

And  a  litfk'  child  is  King. 
Oh,  this  luipp\  Christnias  nioininjj. 

All  rhc  world  ;s  welcoming;! 

30 


r«T»t  f*"i»#;MtiSWiil3i'il'fM9f» 


Mftti;fnif«Wi|C/TltftM'«ll«|iftf'5^f»H^-»5l3t^^ 


Through  the  dm  ot  earthly  battles, 
ThrDugh  the  trumpet's  blast  and  call, 

Hark!  the  angel's  message  soundeth — 
Is  it,  then,  a  mockery  all  ? 

No,  the  tidmgs  eome  not  vainl\. 
For  g(K)dwill  to  men,  and  p-aee 

Will  at  length  prevail  and  triun  ph. 
And  all  strife  and  tumult  lease. 

Ring,  then,  bells,  \uiir  pladdtsi  paeons, 
Christ  the  Lord  is  horn  toda\. 

Let  all  hearts  with  joy  reieive  him; 
Trust  him,  love  him,  and  obey. 


if 


;     t 


THK  HF.K  AND   TUT.  ROSK 

I 

A  bee  once  settled  upon  a  rose. 

Humming  '  how  fair  thou  art'; 
The  rose,  blushing  deepU-,  looked  up  and  smiled. 

And  the  bee  nestled  close  to  lur  heart. 

II 

'  How  fair  and  sweet,'  and  he  lingered  there. 

Kissing  her  o'er  and  o'er. 
I  ill  lo,  on  a  sudden  lie  raised  his  '.vings. 

Hew  afar  and  was  seen  no  more. 


f'  i 


III 


1  he  rose  in  vain  for  her  lover  sighed, 

Paler  she  grew  each  da\-. 
Till  one  sunny  morn  all  her  petals  drooped. 

And  shf-  faded  from  Farth  nwai . 

31 


li'  4 


:r. 


i) 


I.OVl-    Wll  I     LAS  I 

I  III  ttd  lo-f  lilddiiis  the  MiniiniT  fliriiiii;h, 

I  [iiil  flif  .iiinm\n  lil.ir 
kdlis  flif  swtrt  ll(>\M-r  i«i    1 1  III  ,it)il  l;iif. 

■\nJ  tliin  Its  lili  IS  |i.i  •■ 
lint  thou,  < )  1  ,.(W  ,  .lit  si i(  II.:  .iti  I  mil-, 

I  hiiu,  I  ,ip\c.  will  l.i't,  \>  ill  Ij'.f. 

Mil  iiiiHin 'li;nis  i.i'i ,  ..r-,,i  ,,',..  id,   n'^lit 

lJil!;lit   ■■lUic.    1.1    ■.  .lit-  i-.isf. 
\f  liTI_;lll  it  Lull    .  tm   iMiilPii;'  li;;lit 

<  )  <if.ikfs  ilif   iui;lil    l',>\    t.:  r. 
Hut  thou,  O  1,1 1\ I',  .11  r  iillid  ,vif|i  11,      '•   — 

I  llClU,    I   (>\l  ,  W  ''i    i.lst,  ■•>    ll    l.l'.l. 

<  )  lium.iii  I  1  .HI,  '■ .-  .If  tl.v    sliiim 

l.uNf  p:u  :^  its  Im:     ,  /i   \  .isf, 
I  he  sVMTtisf  :;ilt  11(1  I. nth  i^  rluiii', 

I  hi   lilt  |H  ^r  Ju\    thnu  li;i-f, 
I'nr  lir.c  IS  ili.m;'i.li.s^   ;ii)il   diMnt-, 
Anil  /ovv  .I'll!  hut,    ■•II  I. lit. 


I()  A  CACII)  BIRD 

Sini;   Mil,   sisti-t    v.,ithlir,   v'ni;. 
I  h',  rifii  aiiii  iDilriiii;  iik1'.i!\   I  hi-.ir, 
Ami  i;r.iti.hi]lv  aci"i|if  thi-  i<>'.  .uiu  iiii>^ 
i  \\\  m.Tri'hlfss  fui'iN  hi,ii'». 

W'diiM'st  thou  imIkih?'    f'n    I.  f, 
Aiul  puiilKise  friciiniii  v, ;i!i  lift '-,  iia:K  care, 
Willie  now  lioth  tooii  aiui    hi  hi  r  .I'c  rh\'  share, 

I  iihiililin  and  unsou^l-.r  : 

For  crui-l  stinis  t!u   f;ifi', 
Urmmrd  in  1)\  eihiiil  h:ir<;  that  c!ierk  thy  flight, 

^2 


rf|t»t-*Ti»»iu;npr|«1»'M' 


■•.T.-,.M-i«Sn»*''«t«»»ri!?if ■ 


;»3»tSi>»ti<ia»mf«ta 


P»#lN* 


Where  tl  y  fltit  winjis  ni.iv  luvir  tist  tluii  mx^hi. 
Anil  skywaril  siik  luavtP  s  f^JU-- 

()  fcatlu  rt  il  prisomr. 
Thy  lot  is  known  to  ma  k  a  Imnian  soul 
VVliosf  sjiiiit  u  iii'-s  in  vain  sf  rcnh  tc)%\  .luls  sonic  (;<'•«' 

Some  hi^;liii,  l>vlntr  spluie. 

Minils  jiemroiis  and  pieat, 
Hy  lustom  anil  hv  i  ircumMames  tliaitud. 
'Ihiir  piirpoM  s  in  lilV  all  un.'ttaineil. 

Held  in  tlus  taptiM-  state. 

I  learn.  <)  hird.  from  tlur. 
In  listenmu  to  tliv  f liriliini:,  j-ladsome  vouc. 
Whatever  be  mv  lot,  still  to  rejoice, 
And  thouph  in  bond*.,  ful  (fee. 


f    I 


A  M  W  M  AR'S  KVK 

(Truniln'.d  I'rom   tin'   (i.tman   'jj  Ri- 

•  Twas  New  ^■ea^'s  Kve,  the  Kartli  was  wr 

In  winter's  mantle,  soft  and  white. 
The  sky  was  of  the  deepest  blue. 

With  stars  that  plisfened  clear  and  br 
And  at  the  window  of  his  room, 

An  aij:ed  mm  with  snowT  hair. 
Stood  ^a/.in^  .  ur   wrh  ti  nfiil  eves. 

In   litter  an(;iiish   and   despair. 


He  knew  Death's  Angel  soon  wmild  conu- 
He  planced  far  back  on  his  past  lite. 

But  nothing;  save  a  ruined  soul. 
Could  he  retrace— but  sin  and  strife. 

His  youth  returned  to  him  tonight 
As  spectres — and  recalled  the  davs 

:i3 


ht,t) 
apped 

;d.t. 


I    i 

i 

i 

s 


m 

?  I  M 


His  lather  guicitJ  limi  ariglir. 
And  bade  him  shun  sin's  evil  wavs. 

His  conscience  smote  him  sorelv  now. 

He  found  his  promises  unlcept; 
Tnconsciously,   in   hitter  grief 
^  He  looked  towards  Heaven,  and  wildiv  wept- 
"Oh!   Father,  give  me  hack  my  youth, 

i'lace  me  once  more  upon  the  way 
1  hat  leads  to  Virtue's  sunny  paths, 

I  hat  I  may  change  to  better  day.  " 

Mut,  'twas  too  late,  ins  youth  was  gone. 

It  could  not  come  to  him  again; 
And  his  dear  father,  too,  was  dead. 

No  more  could  he  advise  him  then. 


Me  watched  the  wdl-o'-wisp  that  danced 

I  pon  the  marsh  in  mystic  ways. 
Then  vanished  in  the  churchyard  near: 

He  cried— "There  are  my'foolish  days'" 
A  star  came  shooting  down  from  Heaven. 

And  glittering,  fell,  and  disappeared. 
■'  That  am  I,"  said  his  aching  heart, 

Remorse  then  pained  him,  and  he  feared. 

His  glowing  mind  displayed  to  him 

Night  phantoms  wandering  far  about. 
The  windmill  raised  its  threatening  arms 

As  if  to  crush  him,  without  doubt. 
And  in  the  empty  charnei-house 

Was  seen  a  mask,  whose  very  form 
Assumed  his  own,  by  slow  degrees-- 

His  heart  was  filled  with  terror's  storm. 

Now,  in  the  midst  of  this  sore  strife, 
Came  floating  liquid  notes  around, 

34 


U    \ 


'f'hv'<-fii<ttitvmM-''w'»ii^''''^V'yin]ltS!SfSli7SSWli'iltim^^^ 


i<flm^,immimmfrw-^ 


Ol  Nfvv  heir's  music,  soft  and  swiet, 
As  tlu-  huslud  Vesper's  holy  sound. 

While  note  to  note  fell  on  his  ear. 

Far  from  tlie  church-tower,  solemn,  slow, 

His  mind  Rre'.v  calmer,  more  at  ease. 
And  he  felt  stie'.':»hened  in  his  woe. 

lie  looked  oi    o'n  th-;  uide,  wi  Je  world, 

And  our  u    >i-  ?!ic  hkn:  b.orron, 
He  thouf^ht  o*    kai  ilielids  of  iiis  youth, 

All  happv  with  a  br,j|,i.iir  vision! 
Some  teachers  of  all  earthly  things. 

Some  fathers  with  pood  children  blest; 
They  were  all  glad  this  New  Year's  Eve, 

He  onlv  sad,  m  mind  distressed. 

With  heavy  sighs,  and  many  tears, 

He  cried,  "Oh!  I,  too,  might  have  been 
So  blest  and  happv,  and  might  sleep. 

Like  you,  my  friends,  in  peace  serene." 
"Oh!  parent:,,  dear,  1  might  have  been. 

This  New  Year's  Eve,  so  ver>-  glad, 
Had  I  but  lived  as  you  had  wished, 

And  had  obeyed  you — now  I'm  sad." 

He  viewed,  again,  the  charnel-house — 

The  mask,  with  features  like  his  own; 
Rose  up,  and  by  his  thoughts  of  ghosts, 

Was  changed  to  living  youth,  full  grown! 
He  closed  his  eves,  he  could  not  look, 

A  thousand  hot  tears  fell  like  rain. 
He  softly  sighed,  senseless  and  sad— 

"Come  back,  youth,  oh!  come  back  again!' 

And  it  did  come,  as  he  so  wished. 

For  in  this  lovely  New  Year's  night 
He  had  but  dreamed  so  fearfully: 


35 


.1 


He  was  a  youth  yet,  j.l:,d  and  brij;lu. 
But  all  his  errors  thev  were  true, 
^  That  was  no  fanty-faring  drc.mi; 
Yet  he  thanked  CJod  that  he  was  voung, 

For  time  well-spent  would  better  him. 

Return  with  him,  young  reader,  now, 

If  you  stand  on  a  devious  way, 
This  dreadful  dream  your  judge  shall  be 
tor  future  times,  where'er  vou  stay, 
And  should  you  then  cry  out'aloud,'' 
^    So  full  of  woe— "Youth,  come  ag^ain!' 
Twill  be  too  late:  no  youth,  alas,"^ 
Will  come  to  be  lived  over  then. 


LOVC'S  ETERXITY 

Silently,  steadilv.  slowlv, 
Snowflakes  are  falling  adown  the  skv, 
Filling  the  Ear.h  wit!,  the'r  her.utr  and  brightn.ss 
1  etals  they  are  of  rare,  radiant  whiteness. 

Wafted  from  flowers  that  blossom  on  hi<rh 

Silentl\,  steadily,  sweet 'v, 
Love  find    is  wav  to  the  human  heart, 

Filling  the  soul  with  such  exquisite  gladness. 

That  even  sorrow  is  reft  of  its  sadness, 

By  the  sweet  power  that  love  doth  'impart. 

Silentlv,  .steadilv,  surely, 
Snowflakes  will  vanish  and  melt  awav. 
Spring  time  advancing— but  tho'  thev  surrender,— 
Love  that  is  deep,  that  is  true,  that  is  tender, 
Lives  and  endureth  forever  and  aye. 


36 


..b.^r''rti»<"H(i!^fMi>»P»nffl|fST|?»«r...n?vmf(?mTi!fl^ 


ST.  VALENTINE'S  DA^ 


n-i«>i»iin»«ai»«i'rt-i-l««H»'r' 


While  Cupid  his  arrows  and  bow  flung  aside, 

Was  sleeping  one  morn  'neath  a  tree, 
It  happened  that  Malice  was  passing  close  by. 
And,  seeing  the  weapons,  he  came  up  quite  sly. 
And  seizing  them  ran  oif  in  glee. 

In  horror  and  griet  Cupid  woke  up  to  find 

His  love-giving  arrows  all  gone; 
Bewailing  and  weeping,  he  hunted  each  place, 
On  swift-speeding  wings  he  continued  his  chase, 

Each  day  from  the  earliest  dawn. 

But  vain  were  his  searches,  alas!  and  he  soon 

Began  to  grow  pallid  and  pine, — 
When  one  frosty  morning  in  February,  lo! 
An  old  man  approached  with  a  sheath  and  a  bow, 

Who  proved  to  be  St.  Valentine. 

Here,  child,  are  thv  weapons,  I  rescued  at  last, 

From  Malice  with  all  might  and  main; 
The  hearts  ot  the  people  are  passive  and  cold. 
Go  pierce  with  thine  arrows  the  >  oung  and  the  old, 
That  love's  flame  may  kindle  again. 

Then  Cupid  grew  happy  and  active  once  more. 

His  siiafrs  flew  in  numbers  away. 
Love  greetings  and  tokens  and  pledges  went  round, 
By  ties  deep  and  tender  all  hearts  became  bound. 

And  this  was  St.  Valentine's  dav. 


3 


37 


J' 


uj  \ 


A  DREAM 

{Frr.m  the  German  of  Uhland 

One  night  I  liad  a  dream — 

High  on  a  rocky  sttep, 
Close  by  the  Ocean's  edge  I  lay, 
Where  I  could  all  the  land  survey, 

And  far  out  o'er  the  deep. 

A  ship  down  by  the  sea 

Lay  ready  deckt  cl  since  dawn, 
Its  gaily  cole  red  flags  waved  high. 
The  boatman  near  the  helm  stood  by 
Impatient  to  be  gone. 

From  distant  mountains  came 

A  merry  band  to  view, 
Like  angels  were  they  radiant  fair. 
Adorn. d  with  wreaths  of  flowers  rare. 

And  toward  the  Sea  they  drew. 

Before  them  children  ran 

In  groups  all  glad  and  ga\ , 
The  band  boie  g  )l)lers  which  the}'  swung, 
And  some  made  music,  o:htrs  sung 

The  while  in  dance  and  play- 

Thev  to  the  boatman  spake 

"  Wilt  thou  convey  us  o'er;" 
"  Lfe's  pleasures  and  life's  jo\  s  we  are, 
We  wish  from  F.iith  to  part  far,  far 

From  earh  fortvermore. " 

He  took  them  in  his  ship 
Across  the  seas  to  sail. 
And  spake  "  Oh!  joys,  bi:t  tell  me,  pray, 

38 


Ml*tf»!-?»'^ 


..r,M^®ir«pBf(Tn{injffrRi'inmimi 


Have  none  remained  behind  to  stay 
On  mi  untain  or  in  vale  ? " 


,     I 


They  cried,  "  we  are  in  haste. 

Steer  out,  all,  all  are  here," 
And  so  they  sailed  in  light-fresh  wind, 
All  Earth's  delights  and  joys  combined, 
I  saw  them  disappear. 


AN  EVENING  PRAYER 

Bend  and  hear  me,  O  my  Eather, 

As  I  offer  up  my  prayer. 
When  the  silent  shadows  gather 

In  the  dewy  evening  air. 

I  beseech,  Lord,  thy  protection, 
Guard  thou  me  from  every  sin. 

Pardon   all  past  imperfection. 
Help  me  love  and  truth  to  win. 

Though  life's  way  be  dark  and  dreary, 
In  thee  will  I  put  my  trust; 

Rest  thou  givest  to  the  wear)', — 
Thou  who  art  all-wise  and  just. 

Let  me  feel  thy  presence  ever. 
As  a  power  sweet  and  strong. 

So  that  I  may  wander  never 

In  the  path  of  doubt  and  wrong. 

Heavenly  Father,  bend  and  hear  me. 
Listen   to  my   prayer  to-night. 

In  my  slumbers  be  thou  near  me. 
Watch  o'er  me  till  morning  light. 


11 


'    ti 


if      !| 

k 


39 


i 

--     I 


i 


A\ 


ODK  TO  THE  MOON 

I  ell  im-  wdpJroiis  moon,  so  ho;ir\-, 
Wlmr  is  thy  mv  sttrious  Inill, 

1  1k!c  Mis|Hniitii  in  vvliirc  glory 
"(liiinst  high  Heaven's  a^llIc•  wall? 

Chaii<;liss  arr  thou  in  tliv  clian;;in<;, 
I'alu  and  silent  must  ot"  night; 

Art  thou  through  the  hroaii  sky  ranging 
Seeking  some  lost  Satellite  ? 

.Art  thou  Clotlio  spinning  ever 

Mankind's  fate  i,i  threads  of  gold. 

As   upon   the   rippling   river 

I  hy  long  strands  in   rays  untold  ' 

Mute  thou  gazeth — hut  thy  power 
I'.'en  the  niightv  oceans  know, 

ily  the  inlluence  through  eaeh  hour 
Their  great  rides  horh  ehh  and  flow. 

What  deep  sorrow  art  thou  keeping, 

1  hat  hegetteth  sorrow  too  ? 
lor  the  night  hlack-veiled  is  wccjiing 
Sympathetic  tears  of  dew. 

And  the  little  stars  are  grieving 
.'\t  thv  L'lave  sad  face  and  wan, 

!  rouhled.    trrmhling,    thee    perceiving. 
Cannot  closv'  their  e\es  till  dawn. 

1,  too,  cease  mv  mirth  and  laughter, 
•As  I   watch   thee  onward  cnmli; 

Lite's  great  ends  mr  soul  \earns  after, 
A'earns  to  reach  thv  heiL,hts  suhlime. 


41) 


iifllllli.iHitiiilWH.. 


(HitJiiaiil'IMiiil.' 


FIREFLIES 

O  tiny,  winded  creatures, 

Ye  poltlcn  motes  of  liglit. 
That  shining  through  the  darkness 

Are  seen,  then  lost  to  siglit! 

Are  ye  not  t'allen-stars,  say. 
From  yon  fleece-clouded   sky, 

A. id  groping  'mid  night's  shadows, 
To  mount  again  on  high  ? 

Perhaps  ye  are  the  lanterns 

Aerial  watchman  bear. 
Who  guard  the  sleeping  flowers 

All  through  the  night  with  care. 

O'er  meadows,  too,  ye  wander; 

And  oft  I  see  ye  go 
In  merry  parties,  dancing, 

All  lightly,  on  tiptoe. 

Like  scintillations  flashing 
From  some  rare  poet's  mind. 

Whose  hidden  fire  burneth 

With  thoughts  for  humankind. 

Ye  sparkle  on  and  upwards. 
Where  deepest  shades  prevail; 

Like  twinkling  stars  of  night,  gaze 
On  mountain,  heath,  and  vale. 

O  tinv,  winged  creatures. 
Ye  golden  motes  of  light, 

That  shining  through  the  darkness 
Are  seen,  then  lost  to  sight! 


41 


'i  n 


1  ,i 


I'-  ii 


i 


?  j 


ALTl'MN  MEDITATION 

Summer  merges  into  Autumn, 
Earth's  lonj.'  travail  now  is  o'er. 

And  into  her  lap  there  poureth 
All  the  harvest's  richest  store. 

Fruits  the  orchards  vield  in  plenty, 
(Jolden  grains  tiie  meadows  gild. 

Heaven  looks  down  with  eves  the  blur  si. 
Nature's  heart  with  joy  is  filled. 

See  the  sumachs  on  Mount  Royal, 
Birch  and  oak  and  maple  trees! 

Has  the  rainbow  been   unloosened 

From  the  skies  and  dropped  o'er  thest. 

For  in  brightest  tints  attired- 
Red  and  orange,  yellow,  green, 

Blue  and  indigo  and  purple. 
Every   bush   and   tree   is  seen. 

Glorious  is  this  brilliant  season, 
Doomed   too   rapidly   to  fade; 

Winds  already  sigh  and  murmur. 
Earth  will  soon  be  lowly  laid. ' 

But  in  every  dying  Autumn 
There  is  a  promise  of  a  spring, 

Buds  appear  on  all  the  branches. 
Meanwhile  trustful  slumbering. 

Safely  treasured  in  its  keeping, 

Each  October  holds  its  May, 
Till  the  Winter  snows  are  over, 

And  have  melted  quite  awav. 


42 


ftftfiniiifmpK'ra 


-F^TrrrT.-mrtt^tnTf 


TO 

Like  sweet  (orget-me-nots 
AH  moistenid  with  tlie  early  morning  clew, 

Are  her  appealing  eyes; 

While  tender,  soulful  thoughts 
Within  those  niild,  transparent  depths  of  blue 

For  evermore  arise. 

Her  nature   best  compares, 

In  its  unsullied  purity  and  grace, 

With  that  white,  fragrant  flower 
Whose  name  she  aptlyjhears; 

Oh.  Lilv!  offspring  of  the  May,  I  trace 
In  thee  God's  love  and  power. 


SAINT  AUGUSTINE  AND  THE  BO^ 

(From  thr  Girman  of  /''>"/) 

In  Hippo  by  the  Sea  once  stood 
A  humble  little  house  of  wood. 
Where  dwelt,  in  piety  serene, 
A   holy   man, — Sain,    Augustine. 

From  morn  till  evening  he  would  sit 
With  documents  and  holy  Writ, 
Forever  studying  there  to  find 
The  God  he  loved  with  heart  and  mind. 

He  knows  not,  neither  does  he  care. 
If  Spriiu     ith  all  its  bloom  is  there. 
Or  whether  o'er  his  cottage  blow 
The  winter  storms  and  winter  snow. 

His  books  and  manuscripts  alone 
He  seeks,  and  is  intent  upon; 

43 


I) 


.:  i 


A\ 


Researching;,  studying,  th;ir  lie 
May  tnakt  lurt-  the  (Jisci)\(  r\ . 

And,  fillid  with  but  this  oni  thwiight  still, 
He  wandcis  (^ut  ont-  nij;lit  at  will. 
Alas!  nor  sea  nor  land  hini  lures 
His  mind  hut  one  idea  indures. 

While  muMng  in  the  twilight  dim. 
He  sees  a  boy  apjiroa    lini;  ii;m, 
And,  lookini;  up,  this  smilinj:  child 
Seemed  more  an  anf;el  pure  and  mild. 

A  shell  he  holds  withm  his  hand; 
And  by  the  sia,  down  in  the  sand. 
He  stoops,  to  make  a  little  pit. 
That  water  mav  run  into  it. 

Saint  Auf,'usfine  cazed  in  surprise. 

What  docs  the  little  boy  devise.' 

And,  moving  toward  him,  he  said. 

"  Pray  tell  me,  child,  what  thou  hast  made  r' 

I  he  boy  looked  up  quite  fearlessly. 
"  O  great,  good  man,  dost  thou  n()t  see  ? 
I  wish  to  let  the  ocean  roll 
Right  here,  into  this  little  hole." 

■■  How  canst  thou  fancy  aught  so  wild  .'" 
Rep'ied  the  Saint.     "  Thou  foolish  cliild, 
To  think  that  th>'  entire  sea 
In  this  small  hole  could  emptied  lie." 

"  Why  should  this  not  be  poss  hie  .'" 
The  hoy  then  asked  with  earnest  will: 
"  Canst  thou  reveal  and  fathom,  thou, 
What  ne'er  was  given  man  to  know^  ? 


44 


>flrl?irm«gpiifj»jipjij 


mfc^mimM^ 


(  " 


"  Much  sooner  will  the  cntiic  sea 

Roll  into  tins  'jDal!  cjvitv 

Than  man  bv  siarcliing  tiiul  out  t'cr 

I  he  Ciod   who   lukth   cviivwlifrt. 

"  He  can  hut  pray  on  hcnJcd  knee 
To  Ilini,  and  own  his  poverty." 

So  spake  the  boy  in  accents  clear. 
Then  vanished  in  the  atmosphere. 

Saint  .Aunustinc  stood  hy  the  shore. 
A  look  of  utr(  r  sliame  he  wore, 
hot  deep  within  his  heart  he  knew 
That  what  the  boy  had  said  was  true. 

And,  when  he  reached  his  home  again, 
He  sought  no  longer  books;  for  vain — 
Yes  vain  and  emptv — seemed  all  lore. 
The  little  child  had  taught  hiin  more. 

In  larger  faith  and  peace  serene 
HercafterMived  Saint  Augustine; 
And  in  the  sun,  the  flower,  the  sod 
He  now  saw  everywhere  his  God. 


t     I 


!« 


TO  A  CROW 

Welcome  art  thou  hither, 

Glossv,  sable  bird, 
Come  from   regions  thither. 
Bringing  gladsome  word, — 
That   man's   bright   hopes  of  Spring  no  longer   are 
deferred. 

First  art  thou  that  darest 

In  thi.;  stormy  clime, 
With  the  news  thou  bearest 

45 


■  u 


>.>:.(i,Wy1«CM»..x 


.,.>.i.iiteiijririv- 


|B1*H»*I!|>>»N>''««"T!»- 


(  )(  tin    l)iuldmj»  prime, 
v.  lien  (roM  .iiul  mill  .iitil  --nou  slull  v.inivli  for  a  time. 

VN'itli   uli.it   r  ijitiiri-  fillinj; 

h\nv    >.<)iil   antvv, 
I  liar  we  thv  nutt-  thrilliiif; 

Wood    .mil    nuailow   throuj^h, 
Kvc  violets  'niath  thi-  fjriuinil  have  oped  their  cyet  of 

bllK 

Like  a  trumpit  wamiiij; 

Sleepers  to  anse, 
I  In  deep  voice  at  rnorninj; 
In  loud  accents  cries, 
"Awake,  creation,  uaki  and  lilt  \e  to  the  skies!" 

Hird  of  shadowy  plumage, 
Daik  and  dismal  thou; 
^  et  thv  glooniv  image, 
Somlue,   sullen   crow, 
Foretells  flu  hnglitest  season  earth  can  ever  show. 


THi;  I.IXIl.N!)  Ol-    IHi.   ROSK 

When   Mora,  goddess  of  the  flowers, 
Came  down  into  this  world  of  ours, 

With  all  her  children  fair; 
Out  of  her  basket  sho  let  fall 
lo  Karrh  these  olossoms,  one  and  all, 

And  left  them  I)  ing  there. 

1  hen  each  \oung  flower  sought  at  will. 
In  vale  and  wood,  o'er  field  and  hill, 

Some    sheltering    retreat. 
The  violet  found  a  shady  nook. 
Close  by  a  pebbly,  babbling  brook, 

And  bloomed  there  still  and  sweet, 


46 


^>*mi^.i||i»i(jft(«iijj|(j(rMBgffippM(Wfn?l 


I  hr  daisy  aiui  iIh   !iI\   huil 
Off  to  tlif  miMiluw,  wluti'  tlii-v  s|nc(l 

Bright,   suiiiu    spots   to   jitow; 
()ti  tall  atid   sk-ndcr  stems  thty  hun);, 
Caressed  by  Kcntlf  winds  that  swung 

I  heni   sottiv   to   and   ho. 


Meanwhile,  the  rose  had  wandered  on. 
Unmindful  where  her  mates  had  gone, 

'?  ill  near  a  f^rassv  bed 
She  saw  a  bush  with  thorns  beset, 
Its  tender  leaves  all  dripping  wet 

With  tears  of  pain  it  shed. 

Hcie  on  this  shrub  will  I  abide," 
Ihe  rose  compassionatilv  cried, 

'And  daily   strive  to  give 
Some  brightness,  comfort  and  good  cheer 
To  this  afflicted  thorn-bush  here. 

As  long  as  I  shall  live.' 

Ihen  from  the  ground  on  high  she  rose, 
This  crimson  flower  of  love  here  chose 

Her  humble  lot  to  cast. 
Bravely  she  climbed  the  bush,  along, 
Though  pricked  bv  spikv  spines  and  strong, 

And  reached  the  top  at  last. 

And  evermore  above  all  blooms, 
Of  lovely  hues  and  sweet  perfumes. 

The  rose  in  beauty  towers. 
Upon  her  rough  and  thorny  throne. 
She  still  is  recognized  and  known 

As  queen  among  the  flowers. 


,  i 


47 


f    , 

I    " 

■  ,i 

! 

■  'i 


^f^^t^ 


!|ir'^#"•■w5»** 


THE  FIRST  SNOW 

{From  the  German  of  Moritz  H artmann) 

The  trees  so  lately  green  and  fair 
Stand  covered   now  with   snow; 

Youth's  dreams  that  once  so  blissful  were 
Are  dimmed  with  love's  first  woe. 

But  snowrtakes  melt  and  vanish  fast 
When   sunbeams   shme   thereon, 

Wiiile  youth's  first  grief  hut  grows  more  vast 
When  love's  first  lo\e  is  gone. 


A  SINGER 

In  Stockholm,  years  ago,  there  lived, 
Of  life's  sweet  comforts  quite  deprived. 

Within  an  almshouse  lone  and  cold, 
A  little  girl  scarce  six  years  old. 

A  working-woman,  rough  and  rude. 
As  guardian  to  the  orphan  stood; 

Each  morn  she  went  to  cam  her  bread. 
At  home  she  saaly  locked  the  maid. 

So  little   Johanne  ne'er  could  rove 

Through  fields  and  woods  as  children  love, 

Nor  breathe  the  sunny  morning  air, 
'Mid  trees,  and  b'-'ds,  and  flowers  fair. 

In  household  tasks  each  day  was  spent, 
While  left  in  this  imprisonment; 

And  clasping  her  starved  kitten,  she 
Would  often  weep  most  bitterly. 

One  noon,  disheartened  and  forlorn. 
She  fell  asleep  quite  weary  worn; 

48 


l'br.;r&w<»<iffitii^ii"iHri^ili 


113 

i 

1112 

|M 

111 

1 

1 

And  woke  at  setting  of  the  sun, 

To  find  her  work  was  far  from  done. 

In  haste  about  her  tasks  she  rose,    ,. 

Dreading  the  woman's  threats  and  blows; 
And  as  she  toiled,  began  to  sing, 

In   plaintive,  silvr'y  carolling. 

A  royal  lady  passing  near. 

Paused  suddenly  those  tones  to  hear; 
Unearthlv  sweet  rang  out  the  voice, 

It  n     ie  her  very  heart  rejoice. 

Unconscious   of   a    listener. 

The  child  sang  on  more  rich  and  clear; 
Till  at  the  door  a  knock  was  heard. 

Which  hushed  the  golden-throated  bird. 

The  Countess  rapped,  but  all  in  vain. 
Admission  there  she  could  not  gain; 

But  some  kind  neighbor  told  to  her 
The  fate  of  the  small  prisoner. 

Some  weeks  went  by,  till  one  bright  day 
The  lady  came  again  that  way; 

And  asked  if  she  might  give  her  aid 
To  educate  the  little  maid. 

The  guardian  giving  her  consent. 

The  child  then  with  the  countess  went; 

And  entrance  to  a  school  obtained. 

In  which  her  wondrous  voice  was  trained. 

Her  talent  grew,  till  hill  and  dale 

Proclaimed  the  Swedish  Nightingale, 

And  as  the  unrivalled  queen  oi  tone. 
Is  Jenny  Lind  now  world-wide  known. 

49 


)ii 


'I    (: 


i    I 
{    I    4 

5      t       ? 


I'tifK-Joiff'--''^'  ■i^^wtMW^^r^Witrtf'-ai  ;44.^..^>.it.;rtt*'»'*-**iw'*->*^ 


■^.^iiu^.-ii.m^4tmmmm 


t 


HOLLYHOCKS 

'Mid  drowsy  sunflowers  tall, 
That  rear  their  heads  above  the  garden  wall, 

1  he  stately  hollyhocks  stand, 
With  crimson  flowers  close  along  each  stem, 
That  glisten  like  the  ruddiest  ruby  gem, 

Set  in  an  emerald  wand. 

Upon  their  native  ground. 
Like  troops  of  well-drilled  soldiers  are  they  found, 

Nature's  own  body-guard; 
And,  clad  in  their  bright  scarlet  coats-of-mail, 
f  hey  for  a  time  continue  to  prevail. 

Unbroken  and  unscarred. 

Till  swiftly  on  the  spot. 
Comes  August,  a  commander  fierce  and  hot, 

Leading  his  army  forth. 
Tossing  their  yellow  plumes  high  in  the  air, 
A  valiant  host  of  golden-rods  appear, 

And  prove  superior  worth. 

O  hollyhocks  that  grow 
So  far  above  your  sister  flowers  below, 

Ye  seem,  while  there  ye  stand, 
The  spires  of  God's  cathedral,  vast  and  free. 
That  point  forever  upward  hopefully 

Unto  the  better  land. 

The   moist-eyed   buttercup, 
Low  at  your  feet,  admiringly  looks  up, 

With  sense  of  awe  profound. 
While  ye  perform  your  mission  pure  and  meek. 
And  with  your  golden  tongues  a  language  speak. 

More  eloquent  than  sound. 


50 


^ifi»iHifpr<{raj(((!^ 


ll!liliiitfl;ll!tllUUIll'. 


EASTER  HOPES 

Not  without  some  token  has  God  left  u» 
Of  a  future  state  of  peace  and  bhss, 

For  the  souls  of  whom  He  hath  bereft  u» 
On  this  eartlily  Paradise  of  His. 

See  the  caterpillar  slowly  creeping, 

Living  out  his  little  span  below, 
Till  in  his  cocoon  he  crouches  sleeping. 

There  a  wondrous  change  to  undergo. 

Laid  awhile  entombed  in  Death's  protection. 

Soon  into  the  sunlight,  air  and  sky 
He  ascends — a  glorious  resurrection, 

Now  a  golden-winged  butterfly. 

Surely,  if  the  meanest  worm  that  crawlcth, 
God  hath  raised  into  a  better  sphere, 

Man — His  noblest  work — He  no  less  calleth 
To  a  higher  life  when  leaving  here. 

Shall  it  be,  as  Art  so  oft  hath  painted. 

That  the  change  this  new  existence  brings, 

.Makes  us  angels — radiant  and  sainted 

In  white  garments  and  with  shining  wings  .' 

Ah!  we  know  not  all  God  holds  in  keeping 
For  His  children  in  that  better  land. 

When  at  length  we  wake  from  our  long  sleeping 
We  shall  then  rejoice  and  understand. 

Mourn  not,  man,  but  trust  with  resignation. 
When  thy  loved  ones  part  from  thee  and  die. 

For  alone  by  such  a  transformation 
Can  they  live  in  Immortality. 


51 


0' 


i   s 


\  ■    ? 

\ 

i 


AN  AUTUMN  WIND 

Over  broad  fields  of  ripe  barley  and  corn, 

Swift,    on    tiptoe, 
Hurried  a  wind  very  early  one  morn, 

Cheeks  all  aglow. 
Just  as  the  Autumn  had  kissed  her  farewell, 
Leaving  the  earth  that  she  loved,  ah!  so  well. 

Onward  she  sped,  like  Diana  in  chase. 

Blowing  her  horn, 
Never  once  resting  or  slackening  her  pace 

Till  she  was  borne 
Close  to  the  maple  and  great  linden  trees. 
And  here  she  tarried, — this  wild  Autumn  breeze. 

Then  all  the  linden  leaves  trembled  with  dread. 

Turning  quite  pale. 
While  listening  maple  leaves  colored  deep  red. 

Fearing  this  gale. 
Quivered  and  murmured,  not  knowing  this  wind 
Came  for  a  purpose  most  loving  and  kind. 

Each  little  leaf  from  the  trees  she  brought  down 

Safe  to  earth's  fold. 
Changing  their  dresses  for  ones  of  dark  brown, 

'Gainst  frost  and  cold. 
Then  all  the  leaves  curled  themselves  in  a  heap, 
Lulled  by  the  wind  to  a  long  Winter's  sleep. 

TO  A  HOUSED  HYACINTH 

Welcome,  hyacinth  of  spring, 
Here  in  winter  blossoming. 

Spite  of  frost  and  cold; 
Sweetening  with  thy  rich  perfume 
All  the  air  about  my  room, 

52 


a>»ritiiirt;iMOii*.<M..iiii»-iii 


iiliu:lliit:|i»!lltll!;l 


imtfHmiBmfllEiaMMfliiii 


I   ,   5i 


Cheering  with  thy  colored  bloom, 
Ail  who  thee  behold. 

Through  these  months  with  eager  eyes, 
Have  I  watched  to  see  thee  rise 

From  thy  cradle  brown; 
Now  at  length  I  gaze  on  thee, 
Tall  and  slender,  fair  and  free, 
Grown  to  full  maturity. 

In  thy  purple  gown. 

In  the  hollow  of  a  hand, 

Gentle  flower,  thou  seem'st  to  stand, 

As  thy  buds  unfold; 
Outstretched,  tapering  fingers  bear 
High  ihy  clustered  stalk  in  air. 
Like  a  sceptre  jewelled  rare. 

Some  proud  queen  might  hold. 

Blossoms,  happy  is  your  lot, 
Pain  and  sorrow  know  ye  not. 

Sheltered  here  with  care; 
Ye  ne'er  saw  'neath  starlit  skies, 
Night's  dew-tears  stream  from  her  eyes. 
Never  heard  the  wind's  wild  cries. 

Shrieking   her    despair. 

Guileless  little  tinted  flower, 
Thou  art  gifted  with  a  power. 

That  thou  dream'st  not  of; 
Here  with  both  thy  sisters  bright, 
One  in  pink  clad,  one  in  white. 
Ye  as  Graces  three  incite. 

Faith,  and  Hope,  and  Love. 


'ii 


11  « 


53 


\   i 


\J 


'HfcM»;-«i->fei-U..«»* Hlj  i  iaw»i«ii,liruiii> 


li     *  ! 

i 


COMPENSATIONS 

If  it  were  not  for  the  darkness 

That  enshrouds  the  world  at  night, 
We  should  never  know  the  beauty 

Of  the  stars*  soft,  radiant  light. 
But  these  eyes  of  heaven  open 

When  the  shadows  first  appear. 
And  their  lustre  only  deepens 

As  the  blackness  grows  more  drear. 

If  it  were  not  for  the  crosses 

That  we  daily  have  to  bear, 
In  the  trials  and  afflictions 

That  each  human  life  must  share. 
We  should  never  know  the  blessing 

Of  that  holy   inward  calm, 
Born  of  every  earthly  suffering, 

Bringing  with    it   healing   balm. 

Darkest  clouds  have  silver  linings; 

Rainbows  span  the  storm-girt  sky, 
Giving  promise  through  the  rainfall 

Of  full  sunshine  by  and  by. 
Pain  and  anguish  borne  in  patience 

Sweetest   compensations   hid.", 
And  with  every  crucifixion 

Comes  a  joyful  Easter  tide. 

EVENING  HYMN 

Guard  me  throughout  the  silent  night. 
When  none  but  thou  can  see; 

For,  Lord  the  darkness  and  the  light. 
Are  both  alike  to  thee. 

When,  by  thy  providential  power, 
Mine  eyelids  close  in  sleep, 

54 


lii^fripTimm 


Abide  with  me  through  every  hour, 
Thy  vigil  o'er  me  keep. 

And  if  to-day,  by  word  or  deed. 

My  soul  has  gone  astray, 
Oh,  pardon,  Lord,  the  sin,  and  lead 

Me  in  a  better  way. 

Guard  mc  throughout  each  silent  night, 

O  Fathtr,  till  that  morn. 
When  to  thy  heaven  of  love  and  light 

My  spirit  shall  be  borne. 


EMIGRAVIT 

In  the  pride  of  summer's  glory, 
When  the  flowers  were  bright  and  gay. 

And  the  little  birds  sang  sweetly 
In  the  trees  the  livelong  day. 

Death's  swift  angel  came  and  bore  her 
From  our  midst  away. 

Earth  could  ill  afford  to  lose  her, 
Lose  a  soul  so  pure  and  fair; 

But  it  is  a  gain  for  heaven. 
Where  she  liveth  blest  fore'er. 

And  the  stars  are  shining'brighter, 
Now  that  she  is  there. 

Yonder  in  its  bloom  and  beauty 
Stands  the  stately  golden-rod, 

Seems  to  whisper,  pointing  upward 
From  the  dark  and  grassy  sod, 

"She  is  free  from  care  and  anguish. 
In  the  peace  of  God." 


55 


>.XM»ri«h»>>M«H»i<.id««Mii. 


Should  we  wish  her  here  among  us, 
In  this  world  of  strife  and  pain, 

When  within  her  Father's  mansion 
She    may    happily    remain  ? 

No:  for  though  sve  mourn,  we  will  not 
Call  her  back  again. 

"Hush,  be  still!"  a  voice  proclaimeth 
In  mild  accents  from  the  skies, — 

"Still,  and  know  that  God  thy  God  ts.  " 
Can  then  harm  to  man  arise  ? 

Come,  O  Faith,  be  our  Consoler, 
Drv  all  sorrowing  eyes. 


TO  A  BUTTERFLY 

Blithesome  and  light-hearted. 

Pretty  little  thing. 
Soon  as  morn  has  started. 

Thou  art  on  the  wing, 

Through  the  air  and  sunshine  gaily  fluttering. 

Insect  proud  and  dreamy, 

With  the  winds  at  play, 
Like   a    blossom   creamy, 

Driftest  thou  away. 

On  thy  petalled  wings,  thro'  all  the  livelong  day. 

Kissing  lonely  flowers. 

Where  in  nooks  unsought, 
They  through  weary  hours 

Deemed    theniselves    forgot; 

Timid  violet  and  blue  forget-me-not. 

Then  with  one  another 
Oft  I   see  ye  race, 


56 


i'   V 


_v(Wi4ii»is»«r)jp!iH^(ifiil 


i;Lu:;;..n:...iiki;iiimiiiiiil 


itRRritlmiiMtittilMtfuifliifli 


iiSii^kii 


^^^^^^^^^^nBrii^Bu 


Sisters    with    their    brother, 
In  a  merry  chase, 
Over  fields  of  clover  and  thro'  boundless  space. 


From  the  tombiikc  prison. 

Where  thou   long  didst  lie, 
Joyful  art  thou  risen, 

Thy  new  wings  to  try. 

Conscious  Nature  smiling  at  thy  ecstacy. 

And  I  muse  and  wonder 

As   thou    floatest    by — 
When  death  lays  me  under 

The  dark  turf,  shall  I 

Wake  at  length  to  light  like  thee,  oh  butterfly  ? 


THE  HEART 


{ 


(TransIateJ  from  the  German 
of  Neumann) 

Two  chambers  hath  the  heart, 

Where  dwell 
Both  joy  and  pain  apart. 

When  joy  wakes  in  the  one. 

Then  sleeps 
Pain  calmly  in  his  own. 

Oh,  joy!  thyself  restrain, 

Speak  softly — 
Lest  thou  awaken  pain. 


57 


r.  .-.'mail  ii.i»--.t.aKJji.i»wfai« 


mmm. 


ii<>|«iyBi' 


>    » 


THE  END  OF  DAY 

Far  down  the  west  the  sun  lies  dead, 

Upon  a  bed  of  roses; 
Upon  his  breast,  his  regal  head. 

In    stillness   now   reposes. 
While  drawing  neur  with  softest  tread. 

The  night  his  eyelids  closes, 

The  bright,  glad  day  is  dead,  ah,  me, 
I  he  widowed  night  sits  wailing. 

Her  sweet,  pale  face  one  scarce  can  sec 
Behind  her  sable  veiling, 

And  star-  in  heaven's  infinity 
Arebi     ling  low  and  paling. 


^:'A  SONG  OF  HEAVEN 

Beyond  the  boundless  blue  on  high. 
Far,  far  above  the  star-lit  sky, 

Methought  that  heaven  lay. 
Yet,  gazing  in  thy  soulful  eyes, 
I  seem  ro  look  on  Paradise, 

So  chaste,  so  fair  are  they. 

With  perfect  bliss,  methought,  God's  love 
Would  only  in  that  land  above 

The  human  soul  endow. 
Yet  in  thy  presence  dear,  divine. 
Such  holy  joy  and  peace  are  mine, 

1  feel  heaven  here  and  now. 


58 


CHRISTMAS  EVE 

It  is  Christmas  eve,  it  is  Christmas  eve; 

The  children  are  all  fast  asleep,  I  believe; 

For  Santa  Claus  soon  is  to  come,  that  I  know, 

To  fill  all  the  stockings  from  top  down  to  toe. 

He  waits  till  the  moon  is  out  shining  quite  bright 

To  find  his  way  down  through  the  chimney  by  night 

He  leaves  his  small  reindeer  and  sled  on  the  street. 

And  takes  all  his  gifts  from  the  high  piled  up  seat. 

Then  into  the  nursery  he  quietly  goes. 

First  peeps  at  the  children  in  silent  repose. 

He  sees  all  the  stockings  hung  up  in  the  nook 

And  fills  each  with  sugarplums,  toys  and  a  book. 

Then  back  to  his  sled  he  runs,  freed  of  his  load. 

And  drives  out  of  sight,  far  up  over  the  road. 

He  wishes  us  all  ere  he'll  soon  disappear, 

"  A  Merry  Christmas  and  a  Happy  New  Year. " 


SONNET— WINTER 

Alas!  sad  Nature  sits  aside  to  mourn. 

For  Earth  lies  at  her  feet  quite  cold  and  dead, 

The  Autumn  blushes  from  her  cheek  are  fled, 

Her  gold  and  crimson  garments  from  her  torn, 

And  there  she  lies  of  all  her  beauty  shorn. 

Now  tenderly  by  hoary  Winter  led, 

A  troup  of  starry  snowflakes  gently  spread 

A  winding  sheet  about  her,  to  be  worn 

Until  the  morning  when  a  robin's  song 

Will  rouse  her.     Eanh  will  rise  and  live  again 

In  budding  sweetness  of  a  new-born  Spring, 

In  all  the  fair  unfoldings  that  belong 

To  that  glad  time  of  hope  and  promise  when 

The  joy  of  life  suffuseth  everything. 


59 


.  >-^iliii"-i,iin  v.»i.ai»i<<lrifci  ifi><itoil,|-,i,i;   rj,'  LiiJniiiliiir;i|tai».«iA;.K><tt 


1 1 


A  SUNSnOVVKR 

Sun  and  rain  have  gone  to  war 

Which  of  thim  will  win  .' 
Clouds  are  gather. n)^  near  and  tar, 

No  more  iiRht  streams  ni! 
Is  the  sun  already  slain 
Hy  the  cannon-halls  of  rain, 

Shot  through  thick  and  thin  ' 

Ah,  no!  for  the  sun,  af;lnw, 

Shines  out  from  on  high. 
Bends  his  mighty,  colored  how, 

And  the  arrows  Hv. 
Full  ten  thousand  sunhtanis  dart. 
Pierce  each  ramcloud  to  the  heart, 
1  ill  they  vanquished  lie. 

FIELD  DAISIFS 

'Tis  June,  the  fields  are  argus-eyed 

With  daisies,  fresh  and  bright. 
And  thousands  of  these  e\es  look  up. 
With  here  and  there  a  buttercup. 

That  seeks  the  air  and  light. 

The  daisies  are  in  bloom  auain. 

Clad  children  of  the  lea, 
Whose  faces  innocent  and  sweet. 
Turn  wonderingly  the  sun  to  greet 

In  joyful  ecstacy. 

They  speak  to  us,  these  dcir,  dumb  flowers. 

As  beauty  ever  must. 
And  in  the  memory  still  remain. 
Long  after  they  are  withered  lain, 

And  crumbled  into  dust. 


60 


•.^;^^Pm}in< 


The«   simple,   anlcs*   daisies  crowd 

The  meadow  with  their  bloom, 
Their  color  is  not  dazzling  fair. 
Their  form  ami  texture  neither  rare, 
Nor  yield   they   rich   perfume. 

Yet  they  possess  ahovc  ail  flowers 

A  special  sanctity, 
And  in  the  golden  crowns  they  wear, 
And  all  the  snow-white  wings  they  bear, 

Angelic  forms  I  sec. 


THK  ROBBER  ZAUN  \ 

In  the  Martz  Mountain  forest,  once,  long,  IoH;^  ago, 

Dwelt  a  highwayman,  wicked  and  bold. 
He  was  known  by  the  people  as  old  robber  Zaun, 

And  was  fearful  and  herce  to  behold. 
Me  would  haunt  the  dark  forest  by  day  and  by  night 

To  entrap  all  that  came  in  his  way; 
And  alas!  for  the  traveller  who  chanced  to  be  seen, 
:•  SFor  on  him  he  was  certain  to  prey. 
Well,  a  weaver  named  Niemann,  who  lived  in  the  town. 

Sent  his  daughter  one  morning  in  June 
To  the  village  to  pay  to  the  landlord  the  rent; 

And  he  bade  her  be  back  before  noon. 
Twenty  thalers  he  placed  in  a  basket  for  her, 

Which  he  hung  quite  secure  on  her  arm. 
He  directed  the  path  by  the  forest  to  her. 

And  the  house  standing  next  Heinz's  farm. 
So  this  blithe  little  maiden  of  scarcely  nine  years 

Bade  good-by,  and  was  soon  down  the  road, 
When,  on  reaching  the  woodpath,  a  man,  tall  and  dark, 

On  a  sudden  before  the  child  stood. 
"  Oh,  good-dav,  little  maiden!  where  goest  thou,  girl  ? 

And  pray  tell  what  thy  basket  may  hold  ?" 
Looking  up  frank  and  smiling,  the  innocent  child 

61 


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iifeiiaii"iiiitoiiri.gjfc^»i.;<.iMir:iaaii 


tiAI^As'^ 


il 


All  the  errand  the'wild  stranger  told. 

"  I  will  carry  your  basket  and  go  with  you  there.  " 

So  she  handed  it  over  to  him. 
For  a  moment  he  halted,  then  gazed  at  the  child, 

And  his  eyes  became  moistened  and  dim. 
Then  they  walked  on  together,  she  prattling  away 

As  she  tripped  gaily  on  by  his  side, 
I'ill  at  length  they  arrived  at  the  landlord's  domain, 

Where  the  child  pushed  the  gate  open  wide. 
"  1  will  leave  you  now,  maiden,"  the  man  said:  "adieu! 

Take  your  basket  unopened,  my  dear. 
And  inform  your  good  father,  when  home  you  return. 

That  the  great  robber,  Zaun,  brought  you  here." 
"  For  a  child's  simple  innocence,  artless  and  pure. 

Was  its  own  best  protection  and  shield; 
And,  although  I  was  tempted  her  money  to  steal, 

'Twas  impossible  thisjime  to  yield." 


EVERLASTINGS 

A  garden  of  gay  summer-flowers  among, 

These  simple  dry  blossoms  I  chose, 
And  left  the  pure  lily  with  bright  golden  tongue 

Unplucked  there  beside  the  pink  rose; 
For  what  would  their  fragrance  and  beauty  avail 
It  they,  when  they  reach  thee,  are  faded  and  pale  ? 

But  these  little  flowers  I  culled  from  their  bed. 

Dear  emblems  that  live  and  remain 
Unchanged  and  unblemished  when  others  are  dead, 

And  long  since  all  withered  have  lain. 
These  fadeless,  crisp  blos.soms  I  beg  you  will  take — 
My  love  nerlasting — for  Love's  own  sweet  sake. 


03 


w  \ 


wmm 


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xmM^ix^MmmmM^A 


SONNET— DEATH 

Oh!  might  we  but  for  one  brief  moment  raise 
The  veil  that  hides  our  loved  ones  from  our  sight, 
When  with  relentless  and  resistless  might 
The  Angel  Death  his  seal  upon  them  lays. 
Could  we  feel  sure  that  we  again  shall  gaze 
On  those  we  love,  perchance  in  realms  of  light. 
We  might  endure  the  loss,  and  put  to  flight 
The  anguish  and  despair  that  fill  our  days. 
But  in  a  vague  uncertainty  we  cry 
To  Heaven — with  lonely,  aching  hearts,  and  lo! 
No  answer  cometh — no  one  hears.     Too  deep 
And  vast  the  gulf  that  bridges  earth  and  sky; 
And  this  one  solace  mitigates  our  woe. 
That  Death  will,  one  day  fold  us  too,  to  sleep. 


SPRING  AND  DEATH 

Under  the  ice  and  the  snow  on  the  ground. 
Spring  lies  there  hidden  from  sight  and  from  sound; 
Neither  th     liteous  wails  of  the  wind. 
Seeking  th.      st  that  he  never  can  find. 
Seem  to  arouse  her  or  summon  her  forth. 
Meanwhile  the  Winter — ^leat  bird  of  the  north — 
Shelters  and  guards  her  with  mother-like  care. 
Spreading  his  snowy  white  wings  over  her. 
Nor  will  he  hence  till  the  mandate  be  given, 
"Rise,   rise   up,  O   Spring,  draw   earth    nigh   unto 
heaven!" 

Think  not,  O  man,  that  thy  loved  ones  are  dead, 
When  in  the  cold  and  damp  ground  they  are  laid. 
Though  thou  art  parted  from  them  for  a  while. 
Yet  they  live,  hallowed  and  blest  with  God's  smile. 
Shielded,  protected,  they  dwell  evermore 
Happier  than  eyer  they  could  be  before. 


63 


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r 


j  y 


Were  there  no  heaven,  there  could  be  no  love. 
Trust,  then,  thy  dear  ones  are  resting  above. 
And,  as  the  Spring  greets  the  Earth  year  by  year, 
So  will  man  meet  those  he  sought  and  loved  here. 


PARSIFAL 

I  dreamed  that  1  was  roused  from  sleep 

One  early  Sabbath  morn, 
By  strains  of  wondrous  melody. 

That  to  mine  ears  were  borne. 

And  ever  grander,  deeper,  swelled 

The  notes  above,  around. 
My  senses  grew  o'erpowered  with 

The   surging  sea  of  sound. 

Now,  as  I  stooped  to  hearken  whence 

This  music  rich  and  rare, 
1  felt  myself  transported  high, 
h*  Into  the  outer  air. 

Here  bells  were  tolling  solemnly, 

And  choristers  sang  low. 
While  marching  to  the  stately  chords 

That   issued,   sacred,   slow. 

Intense  the  yearning  and  sublime, 

As  louder  rose  the  tones. 
My  soul  was  ravished  as  I  moved 

Far  off  to  higher  zones. 

And  as  I  floated  up  and  on 

In  this  enraptured  state. 
The  harmonies  swept  full  and  free, 

I  stood  at  heaven's  gate. 

64 


g»rtf<!B»wfi«mHinffii|'«niHnmBBT!,,|Bi^^ 


wf.?.};.^^_i-miift 


It  was  rhc  an^tlic  host  I  heard. 

In  chorus  one  and  all, 
And  the  music  tht'V  were  chanting  was 

From  Warner's  "  I'arsifal." 


siMMKR  rwii.iciir 

Dim  shadows  steal,  with  noiseless  tread, 

In  swift  succession  h\ , 
As  twilipht,  with  her  winf;s  outspread, 

Hovers  'twixt  earth  and  skv. 


The  stately  lily  hangs  her  head 
In  dew'v,  sweet  repose; 

I  lie  pansv,  curled  up  in  her  hed, 
Slumhcrs  heside  the  rose. 


li    i 


The  birds  have  sought  their  downv  nest, 

Secure  on  tree-tops  high. 
While  winds  are  rocking  them  to  rest, 

Chanting  a  lullaby. 

Above,  two  stars  peep  sh\'lv  out 
To  view  the  young  moon  rise, 

I  hat,  like  a  fairv,  golden  boat, 
Anchored  in  heaven  lies. 

And  in  this  still  and  solemn  hour 
All  strife  and  tumult  cease; 

lor  over  earth,  with  mystic  pov\er, 
Hroodeth  a   hallowed  peace. 


().") 


•i      ■ 


i  i 


CUPID'S  GARDEN 

F.very  spring  in  Cupid's  garden, 

Huslu's  may  be  seen 
Hearing  strings  of  flowers  coral, 
Hktding  hearts  they  are,  tho'  floral, 

Hanging  'twixt  the  green. 

Cupid's  arrows  sharp  and  deadly. 

Caused  this  dire  woe. 
Each  young  heart  now  doomed  to  wither, 
Has  lieen  pierced  and  then  brought  hither, 

IJieeding,  trembling  so. 

Now  he  waters  them,  repentant, 

'Tends  them   all  in  vain; 
Hearts  that  Cupid  once  has  riven. 
He  can  never  more  enliven 

Or  restore  again. 


SOLITUDE 

One  little  bird  on  tree-top  high 

Sings  out  his  plaintive  lay. 
One  single  star  out  on  the  sky 

Keeps  watch  till  break  of  day. 

'I'he  last  sweet  rose  that  summer  shed 

Must  (|uite  forsaken  feel; 
For  down  her  cheeks,  all  flushed  and  red, 

Great  dewy  teardrops  steal. 

.And  I  anud  the  silence  here 

Stand  at  my  garden  gate. 
.Alas,  how  long  the  hours  appear 
To  those  who  watch  and  wait! 

66 


:<:Vi>«m!f<«iiiiHp'riWi!-:!ia 


But  morning  lircnks.     'I'lu  l)ird  hath  flown. 

1  ()  join  its  iiiatc  afar; 
And  haik  unto  its  sistirs  jropf 

1  liat  .,ini;lc  cvininj;  star. 

1  o  kiiulrid  flowers  a  kindly  wind 

I  lie  rost's  hlooni  lias  blown; 
While  I,  alas!  riniain  Inliind, 

1  o  tread  my  path  iihitu- 

lili;  IJX.'KNl)  OF   JIIK  MOON 

When  the  cresiint  nioon  hrst  moored  his  hoat  in  the 
sky, 

A<;es  antl  ages  a;j;o, 
lie  saw  in  the  distaiue  the  fair  evening  star, 
AntI  tell  <|uite  in  love  with  her  there  from  afar, 

So  bright  with  her  shimmering  glow. 

Now  each   night   as   iie   waxed    in   both   stature   and 
strength. 

Ardor  and  hope  hlled  his  breast; 
With  eyes  lull  of  yearning  and  languishing  love, 
He  gazed  at  her  steadfastly  high  up  above. 

As  slowly  he  moved  towards  the  west. 

But,  alas,  iinre<|uited  iiis  passion  remained; 

Venus  ignored  him  outright; — 
With  cold,  heartless  glances  his  love  she  returned, 
And  he,  hapless  moon,  when  the  truth  he  bad  learned, 

Soon  waned,  and  then  vanished  from  sight. 

Kach  successive  young  moon  proved  inconstant  since 
then. 

Changeful,  has  come  and  has  gone, 
Increasing  until  his  full  roundness  was  gained, — 
Then  steadily,  gradually,  silently  waned. 

The  Kvening  Star  still  shining  on. 

07 


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NO  111  INC.  WiniOL  1    LOVK 

(Trutisl'ittd  [torn   thr  Ctnrriari   'if   /  "i'O 

Littlf  sprif;lulv  bird,  ;ui(l  trie, 
ll;i|ipy  ill  ''^^i't   Highl  forever, 

Singini;  (:avly  on  each  tret, 
Bur— 

Witliout  loM-,  never,  never.! 

Noddinfi  flowers,  as  tliey  grow, 

Wiiisper  in  the  morninj;  jjlinuner, 

Life,  liow  heautiful  art  thou! 
Mut— 

Without  love,  never,  never! 

Uillows  word  Cor  word  exchange, 
Mashing  in  bright  rays  of"  silver, 

Two  hv  two,  thev  gladly  range, 
Hut— 

Without  love,  never,  never! 

Thou  heart  tilled  with  joy  and  pain 
I'eelest,  too,  this  one  truth  ever, 

Hlest  wilt  thou  alone  remain. 
But— 
Without  love,  never,  never! 

ir  IS  JILY 

In  coats  f)t"  red  the  hollyhocks. 

Drill  'neath  a  cloudless  sky, 
'Iheir  heads  erect  upon  their  stalks. 
While  near  them  bloom  larkspur  and  phlox. 

It  is  July. 


GS 


(SiillMwmi(mKp1!nHi!!M§ 


iliUt!LiiUuUiiiiititlMti<ii.i'Mjl 


m^jmnrnmaifrnmim^ 


The  robin   in  tlif  appU-tttp 

Kntriats   lur   y<»ini;   to   Hy, 
'I\)  strt-tch  tluir  tiny  wini;s  anil  sn- 
The  world  about  thcni  full  anil  trie. 
It     is     Jiilv. 

Out  in  thf  ficlil  the  iarnur  naps 

His  hay  and  piles  it  hiKh— 
'Ihc  iricktt  in  the  tall  jirass  sleeps, 
A  cooing  wMid  about  hnu  iree]is, 
It  is  July. 

And  Nature,  meanwhile,  labors  on. 

Her    work    to    fructilV, 
Green  fruits  enlarge  until  full  grown, 
By  sun  and   rain  that  shower  down. 

It   is  July. 

Oh!  when  at  length  my  star  shall  set. 

It  would  be  sweet  to  lie, 
With  daisies  bright   and   mignonette, 
Above  niv  still  cold  form  while  yet, 
It  is  July. 


I  HK  KASIKR  GOSPF.L 

It  is  not  in  a  world  bevond  our  own 

Man  life  eternal  wins; 
Nor  need  he  cross  Death's  silent  bridge  of  stone 

Before  that  life  begins. 

Eternity  is  first  with  man  below. 
E'en  from  his  very  birth; 

A  heaven  hereafter  can  he  only  know- 
By  making  one  of  earth. 


69 


iiiiiijft,ii'i:iijiii»!iiiiBiiiiiH  :migm?m 


S 


ilMli 


ri.;i«u»<.,.iiiUjiiiiWWWiii 


;' 


C'liiisf  lo'-v  hv  tiiiinipli  ovit  sm  :mil  wronp 

Whiii  in  tin-  (Ifviit  tiiiil. 
Not  ili;it  tliinl  (I.iv  wlii-n  viiinlv  suii^lit  tlu'  tinont; 

Ills   boiiv  I. riicihid. 


I!    i 


So  when  all  tvil  dit-s,  and  base  (Ksirc, 

Our  souls  arc  sanctiHid, 
I'praisid,  and  purmd  liv  (lod's  lonsuniin^  lirf; 

And  this  is  l.astt  r-tiilc. 

W'hili  tor  the  rest,  ( )  man,  thy  fairh  still  kcip. 

And   know  (Kath   inds   not  all: 
I  111-  i.onl  our  shi|)lKrd  is,  and  wc  jus  shtcp, 

W  ho  huinhlv  wait  his  call. 


W  I'  wander  lurt-  awhilt-  and  widiK  roain. 

Sir  down  on   l  arth's  iloniain; 
Mut  (  iod  will  hiar  us,  win n  night's  shadows  lomt', 

Sate  to  his  fold  asiain. 


S()\G 

(From  till'  Girrnmi  of  I:iclietuhirf) 

How  oft  a  nurrv  strain  I  sini;, 
And  io\{)Us  scL-ni,  and  smile. 

When  hitter  tears  in  secret  wring 
My  acliing  heart  the  while. 

And  thus  the  caged  nightingale, 
When    hahiiy    Spring    allures, 

I'ours  out  in  sweetest  notes  her  wail — 
The  longing  she  endures. 

Man  hears  with  joy  the  melting  strain, 
I  lis  iieart  grows  glad  anti  strong, 

"\'et  no  one  t'eels  the  hidden  pain, 
1  he  anguish  in  ;  aj  song. 

70 


!!:;i.iiHiiijiit4:|li!i)i)mi|i 


-mf  w*. 


THK  CHRISTMAS  STAR 

The  story  of  tlie  Christ-child's  hirth 

Near  Advent  time  1  told 
To  fair-haired  little  Kathleen, 

A  girl  of  four  years  old. 

On  Christmas  eve  she  gazed  far  out 

Upon   the    star-lit    sky; 
She  saw  fair  Venus  overhead. 

And  uttered  with  a  cry. 

'  Oh!  mother,  that  must  he  the  star 

Which  long  ago  that  morn 
The  shepherds  followed  till  they  found 
The  place  where  Christ  was  born. 

'  Oh,  do  you  think  if  we  would  go 
Where  that  star  leads  the  way. 
We  too  might  find  a  little  Christ 
To  worship  and  obey!' 

Ah,  little  dream'd  sweet  Kathleen, 
That  on  her  own  dear  head, 

The  wondrous  planet  all  its  light 
In  full,  deep  lustre  shed. 

LAURA 

Laura,  winsome  little  maiden, 

Lassie   sweet   and   shy:— 
By  the  brook  I  see  you  dreammg. 
Lost  in  fancy— never  deeming 

An    intruder   nigh. 

Cheeks  where  roses  cease  not  blooming 
All  the   seasons  through; 

71 


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BW 


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fJT^- 


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Uith   \(iiii    lc)>ks  111   f;i)liltii   \<llow, 
Aiiil  Mini   (l.iik-liKiwn  (vts  so  nu'lliiw.- 

\\  III)    Ml    1,111     .IS    Mill   .' 


In    '11111    sli.iwl    ,iiul    |).iik    MinlMiiiiut, 

<  Ml   I   sii-  \(»i  iii.im, 
lliiiiiiull     the  In  Ills  ;ill   \\|iir«    wifji  cIomi 
DiiMml;,  wlini  tin  d.n   is  om  i, 

Kiiu   .nil!  i.itiK   hdiiu. 


li    > 


: 


(  iiiilikss  iitil*'  v(iiiiitr\  m.iiilt  n, 

St.ittiv    is  Mini   mull, 
I  lii;ii;,;li    in    riisiii'  diiss   mhi   w.uiiltr, 
Willi  Miiii    lu.iiit\    M)u  .III-  i;r»iulir 

I  luin  tin   piiiiidisr  (|ikc!i. 

I..iiir;i,    sini|)lt,   .irtKss    ni.iiilin,  - 

i.iissii-  I   ;ul(iii'. 
I  ■'  niv  litart  oh,  Ur  nii-  t.ikt-  mmi. 
I.ii\f  .mil  siivi  Mill  rill  I  iiKiki  \nu 

MlIU-   tilllVllllUllf. 


(■|iRi<iM.\.s  i:rii()i  s 

1  oi!.i\-  .IS  \v(  kiiiiu-  :is  of"  M;ri, 

I  Ik-   (,"liristm;is-riik-   idiius    roiinil; 
WIiiIl-   pc.iif,    Lioml-wili    ;inil    h.ippiiuss 
III   iuart   ami   home   ahoiiml. 

,-\mv,   ui-  (.( It  hi.itc  tin-  niorii. 

Iliar   marks  ihc  C'iiiisr  cliiiil's  hiith. 
Ami    join   flu-  iil.iii   liosannas  rliar 

I'r  oiind    tliroiijjiimit    flic    earth. 

I  lif  \\li(i!i-  \Milf  woilil  sii-ms  ilaspinp  hands, 
in  iiiH  iiuliisivt.-  rini;. 


72 


i|ljii|iii«:|tlliiHJUi|'iU'i'< 


'illHUi'  Uii.mH-iiut,, 


■:|p*-       'flwr^ 


A<l<iiin<;  ;inil  ;ii-kn'>wl(ii^in(», 
I  his    litric    l);il>i"r!Hir    Kinj;. 

()  lifaiititiil  and  l)ltssiil  tinu-, 

W  lull  silt  IS  all  (or^Dt, 
Wlun   love   and   lu-lpfulncss   alonr, 

iMigiuss   Kur    luiiiian    tlu)Uj;liI. 

Wlu'ii  His  df.ir  spirit  diu-  and  all 

Sctin   iin'riiy  to  sharr. 
W'c  took  in')  our  rni£»hl><ir's  face 

And  set-  till-  Chris-     liild  thi-u-. 

Thfn  rinj;,  O  btlls,  ri'joicf,  rt-joii-f, 
I  he  Christmas  tide  has  conu-. 

And   peace    fjood-will   and   hap|)iness 
Abound   i"   heart   anil   home. 


SNOVVILAKI  S  AM)  SNOWDROPS 

A  shower  of  snowflakes  came  hurrying  one  day 

Adown  trom  an  April  sk\ , 
Hut  only  a  moment  on  eanh  could  they  stay, 

Alas!  for  the  sun  on  hi^h 
Sliot  out  glances  so  fierce  on  these  flakes  wiiere  they  lav 
1  hat  they  trembled,   and,   melting  in   tears,  slipped 
away. 

A  week  glided  by,  when  a  wondrous  sight 

Was  given  one  morning  to  greet. 
The  ground  lately  bare  was  now  covered  all  white 

With  blossoms  most  dainty  and  sweet. 
For  the  flakes  that  in  tear-drops  had  vanished  from 

sight 
By  the  penitent  sun  were  made  snowdrops  so  bri},ht. 


73 


fc Ml  i  i«i» ■  iln)iiiiri»ii,in«i«hm'i.>fh'»<w«ii»- w  4.1  Ji mmkimm  I 


V 


SONG 

I  li\  lu-.irr  is  likt  ;i  khiiIc  stu.im. 
On  vslmh  my  litilf  li.iik  1  'tiir. 

Ami  w.indtr  in  ;i  liappv  ilrtani. 
Along  its  waters  fresh  and  ckar. 

1  lart-  not  whitlur  tinils  nn   l>oat, 
So  that  I  nivir  naiii  tin   sliori-, 

I  only  lo"K  to  dntt  ami  Boat 
I  pon  this  stream  forcvtrmort-. 


DISTURB  rr  NOT 

(TiiitisliitiJ  frrivi  the  Girnuin  of  Gftbel) 

Wiurt'tr  a  htart  with  love  o't  rflows, 

Disturb  it  not,  but  kt  it  In  : 
l  Ik-  spark  divine  should  not  be  tpancht'd. 

In  sooth,  it  were  not  well  with  thtc. 

If  I'lr  upon  the  wide  earth's  round 
An  unpolluted  spot  be  found. 

It  is  a  younR  fresh,  ardent  heart 

In  love's  first  raptures  deeply  bound. 

Oh,  grant  to  it  the  sweet  spring-dream 

That  blooms  with  rosy  fiowers  bright: 
Thou  know'st  not  what  a  Paradise 
Is  lost,  when  this  dream  takes  its  flight. 

For  many  a  stout  heart  has  been  broken 
When  love  was  rudely  torn  away; 

And  long  endurance  oft  has  turned 
1  o  hatred  and  despair  for  aye. 


74 


ilv 


■■«it.nirHi!i-r«iu«it.mTin...n»».ffln.».^<,««.«»i.,»n 


f\     m 


And  m;iny  a  lorn-ly,  aihinc  soul 
III  ilirtsf  lutd  has  loudly  irud, 

An»l  thrown  hiin  down  into  t\>v  dust, — 
I  111-  lovi-lv  f;od  in  hmi  had  dud. 

In  vain,  tlun,  ilost  thou  w<t|>  and  grieve; 

For  no  repintanii'  on  thy  part 
Can  make  a  withered  rose  revive 

Or  reawaLe  a  deadened  heart. 


niK  srANi.su  |{1•.(;(;AIMK)^■ 

Upon  the   I'uirta  del  Sol 

In  old  Mailrid  one  day, 
A  little  hejy;ar  .selling  pins, 

i'ursued  nie  on  my  way. 

Ills  wistful,  upturned  face  bespoke 

A  life  of  care  and  pain. 
Those  dark,  imploring  e\cs  forsooth 

Could  never  plead  in  vain. 

"Oh:  Senorita,"  he  beseeched, 

"Oh:  einco    centimos, — 
Do  buy  this  box  of  pins  from  me 

I  am  so  poor  (Jod  knows." 

In  Spanish  accents  thus  he  begged. 
How  plaintive  were  his  tones, — 

"  Oh:  Senorita-ita-hear  " — 
His  very  words  were  moans. 

And  I  who  am  not  wont  to  give 
To  beggars  on  the  street — 

Could  not  refrain  when  this  small  waif 
My  aid  came  to  entreat. 

76 


.it««*t.i>*tt#^l* 


« I 


Into  his  hand   I   slipped  a  coin, 
And  nt'tr  shall   I   forget, 

I  he  "  Senoiit.i  graeias  "— 
With  which  my  alms  he  met. 

And  still  across  the  ocean  far, 
1  he  vision  comes  ajjain, — 

In  every  waif  I  seem  to  see 
1  hat  hej;j;ar-h()y  of  Spain. 


TO   11  IK  DYINCJ  VF.AR 

FareweM,  Old  ^'ear,  farewell! 

Ihv  last  hrief  hour 
Peals  l"roni  the  mellow  hell 

In  yon  church  tower. 

Kre  the  first  hlush  of  morn 

1  inges   the   east 
Will  a  new  year  he  born, 

And  thou  released. 

CJladly.  O  \ear  of  Pain, 

I   see  thee  go. 
I  would  not  drink  again 

Ihy  cup  of  woe. 

And  yet  thou  hast  not  been 

Wholly  unkind: 
Days  bright  and  joyous  e'en 

Flash  on  my  mind, — 

When  F.earth  lay  sweet  and  mild 

In  thy  caress, 
And  Heaven  itself  had  ..miled, 

And  stooped  to  bless. 

76 


•^'%<wawiw.iim..i 


3 


Thi  the  coming  year 

Siuv        saddened   be, 
Thx'eii  s  of  thine  hours  of  cheer 

Will  comfort  me. 

Solemnly,  one  by  one, 

Ceases  each   bell. 
Old  Year,  thy  course  is  run! 

Old  ^ear,  farewell! 


MIO  RATION 

Gay  summer  birds  appear  in  crowds 

Beneath  an  autumn  sky, 
While  shrieking  winds  and  lowering  clouds 

Warn  them  'tis  time  to  fly. 

With  eager  joy  they  spread  their  wings 

To  take  their  southern  flight. 
There's  One  w  ill  guide  their  wanderings 

To  sunny  lands,  and  bright. 

O  happy  birds,  forever  free 

From  sorrow,  toil,  and  care. 
How  full  of  sweetness  life  must  be. 

How  beautiful  and  fair! 

No  winter  storms  about  you  blow. 

No  want  is  yours,  nor  pain. 
Secure,  to  genial  climes  ye  go 

Till  Spring  returns  again. 

When  life's  dark  wintry  days  draw  near, 

Oh,  singing  birds,  like  you 
To  some  blest  lands  of  joy  and  cheer 

I  fain  would  migrate   too. 


igiiim!fiMimm.it-  ...h'im.-.  .i^nniwMiiifWiiiEiiiwaii,:  .yuLiimij 


M 


AND  IT  WAS  NIGHT 

I  travelled  far  o'er  mountains  high, 

A  rough  and  thorny  way, 
L  ntil  I  came  into  a  land 

W  here  it  was  endless  day. 

IVrpetual   sunshine   hlottcd  out. 
All  clouds  and  mist  and  gloom. 

No  darkness  hushed  the  songs  of  hirds. 
Nor  closed  the  Howers  hU)om. 

1  he  hr.ghtness  thrilled  the  world  with  joy 
And  vanished  doubts  and  fears; 

No  sorrows  (linitned  the  lives  of  men 
No  aching  hearts— no  rears. 

A  heavenlv   radiance  suft'used. 

Kach  earthly  form  uirh  light. 
Ah!  vision  all  too  glorious; 

I  woke — and  it  was  night. 


CTI'ID'S    IIIKI-  r 

.\Iv  heart  was  once  a  garden  fail, 
W'irh  roses  hriuht,  of  rare  perfuiiic, 

Hut  fupid  came  (|uire  unaware 
One  day,  and  stole  each  lovelv  Moom 

And  now  a  dreary  waste  it  lies — 
Ah,  foolish  me,  thus  to  forget 

To  guard  its  gates— had  I  he(  n  wise. 
My  garden  might  he  Howering  yet. 


7S 


..■tfiTuwiMlteynrt 


AND  IT  WAS  DAY 

From  out  my  own  dear  native  land 

So  sunny,  fair  and  brii;lu, 
I  once  was  to  a  countrv  lioriu-, 

Where  it  was  endless  Ni{;lu. 

Dense  blackness  brooded  over  all, 

Without  one  j;leain  ot  lifilu. 
The  very  stars  in  Heaven  above. 

Were  blotted  out  ot  sight. 

And  I  was  groping;  in  tiie  dark, 

Hint  down  beneath  a  load. 
Which  I  was  forced  to  carry  thro' 

A  labyrinthine  road. 

Oh:  dreary   'twas   and   lonelv   too. 

With   nothing  left  to  cheer, 
All  hearts  were  sad,  the  hours  diagged  on 

l.ach    nrmient    seemed    a    year. 

The  cries  of  little  children  Hlled, 

The  cold  and  dismal  air, — 
While  women  wailed  and  wrung  their  hands 

In    anguish    and    despair. 

Hither  and  yon  they  blindly  moved, 
As  tiny  in  tumult  groaned,— 

And  I  had  stretched  out  feeble  hands 
'I'o  (,ne  v,ho  fell  and  moaned. 

When  io:  a  flood  of  sunshine  streamed 

Upon  me  wiiere  I  lay, — 
The  birds  were  singing,  skies  were  blue, 

!  woke— and  it  was  Day. 


7!) 


PmP>nl!!!!*<>* 


[Hmrnt.  ■.. 


I   . 


^« 


If    ' 


I'RIMONiriONS 

1  wo  vill"w  l«.-.i\rs  on  flu-  irifcn  liruU-n  fric 
l.iklfss  .ind  wifhcrtil  ;is  witlurtd  i  .111  W. 
litre  in  rlif  niidsr  of  flu'  sunimci's  bright  bloom, 
WarniPK  x\w  tarrli  of  its  tortlu-oming  doom, 
Wlun  ;ill  flu   vrrdiirc  and  llovvtrs  so  pav, 
Will  liavf  (juitf  vaiiislu-d  and  (adt  d  awav. 

Two  siImt  hairs  on  a  sunnv  young  liiad. 
I  hro'  lu  av\   niassis  ot  goldt-n  locks  spread, 
\ow  111  thi   hliish  and  the  hilness  of  voutli, 
I'oieteiling  issues  that  aue  brings  forsooth. 
When  life's  sweet  siningtime  will  pass  out  ot  sight, 
I.eavin"  cold  Winter  and  Silence  and  Night. 


v\ 


NOCn  RNI, 

I, ike  a  |o\  that  has  sta\((l  a  brief  moment,  and  fled 
Like  a  rose  that  has  bloonu-d  for  a  while  tin  n  lies  ilead. 

So  opens  and  closes  tin  <la\'; 
While  tin-  sun  in  the  west  like  a  wairuir  bold. 
Dons  his  cap  and  his  mantle  of  crimson  anil  gold 

,\nd  rules  down  tiu-  luavens  away. 

With  her  sable  wings  lifted  the  night  hovt  rs  near. 
.And  enfolds  in  deep  darkness  the  vast  atmosphere. 

The  Karth  rests  in  silence  and  dreams; 
I'p  on  hii;h  all  the  stars  light  their  lanterns  again 
.\iul  are  hanging  them  out  in  the  sky  to  remain, 

1  ill  morn  wakes  the  world  with  her  beams. 

(an  it  br  that  the  moon  has  sonu-  sorrow  fo  bear 
I  hat  sin  secretly  kei  ps  and  with  F.arth  camiot  share, 

I'.ise  why  with  a  tear  staineil  face, 
Hoes  she  ga/e  down  tor»\er  in  pit\  below 
With  a  look  of  such  (]uiet  subnii^Mon  aiul  woe. 
As  soltK   she  circles  through  space  .' 


SO 


w:^M^. 


'^*-nm 


\n  A  ROSK 

A  l()n^-stcmmfil  umi^nii  vo-v  lias  shed  sikIi  swc.f.nss 

Ahour  nif  all  'lu-sf  tlavs,— 
Anil  stands  as  if  ri!;rcrtiil  of  liti's  H.<-tii.-ss 

Wirliin  its  crystal  vast,-. 

Irs  ihisttrcd  [utals  still  with  fraprancc  ladtii, 
I'all  siUiit  to  thf  tiround, 
l.ikc  ttars  adown  th(   ihiik  of  sonu    nuik  niauhn 
In   tcndt  r   soimw   hound. 

And  now  its  gold,  n  lu  art  alont-  rt-mainfth 

Dt'ath  stiiiiin!;  to  dttv,  - 
Assurance  sweet  despite  all  else  that  wancth 

or  l.ove  that  cannot  die. 

K)  nil.  SPKINC; 

([■'irjiii  tlir  Ciirtnnn  nj  SihilLi) 

Welcome  ihainiing,  charniinp  Spiingtime, 
Nature's  joy  and  her  dehuht. 

With  thv   flower-laden   basket. 
.Making  earth  so  glad  anil  hright. 

■^'es:  once  more  thou  art  among  us, 

Ah:   so  beautiful  and  sweet,- 
Kvery  heart  is  thrilled  with  pleasure, 
i  by   fair  face  again  to  greet. 

Dost  remember  too  mv  maiden  .' 
.Spring   oh    her    n  iiiember   thou: 

\i>nder  lives  the  maid  who  loved  me, — 
\ca:  the  maid  who  loves  me  now. 

For  tiiis  maiden  many  a  flower, 
Oft  have  1  beMjught  of  thee, 

81 


■■■^wmm 


|IIHI:iilW«BiWn»il!IB'WH!8!J      - 


I'k  I  *«4  O  M^  .  ,    ht.te^U.J 


I 


i  ) 


And  jiR.iin  I  lomc  to  heg  them, — 

riiDii  Sprinp,  thou  wilt  give  tluni  mc: 

WMi-oim  charming,  charming  Springtimt, 
Nature's  joy  and  her  delight. 

With    thy    flowtr-hidcn    basket. 
Making  earth  so  pbd  and  bright. 

RKCONCILIAIION 

I  low  sweet  the  moment  wlun  two  hi  aits 

I  liat  tor  a  while  seemed  cold. 
And    li\ed    apart    indiHVrentlv 

While  siiH'ering  grief  untold, — 
I  nitc   again   in   Love's  embrace. 

More  tender  than  of  old. 

.■\  sacred  peace  and  joy  is  theirs 

1  hat  tluy  alone  can  know, 
And  happv  tears  too  long  withheld 

In  silent  torrents  flow. 
While    nearer,   dearer,   closer    still. 

Heart  unto  heart  doth  grow. 

As  when  the  currv-nts  of  a  striani 
That  stretch  out  toward  the  shore, 

Are   interrupted   in   their   course 
Uv  some  rude  craft  and  oar, — 
I  heir   waters    afterwards   enfold 
More  closely  than  before. 

Or  sunheams  that  no  longer  mav 
1  heir  warmth  with  flowers  share. 

lor  some  dark  shower  clouds  their  path. 
Hut   after  that   'tis   fair — 

The  sk\  sends  down  its  brightest  lights. 
A  rainbow  too  is  there. 


82 


1^ 


,t«A.-. 


•  »^  %-•  * 


tZffcU?!^ 


S()NNF.T-NI(;m' 

I.isf  ro  till'  wind  ;ini()nj»  the  tim  trees  croon, 
I  ;kIi  little  leaf  she  fornlles  to  her  breast, 

I  he  branches  stretch  their  arms  to  be  caressed, 
While  from  her  shutter  peeps  the  virgin  moon. 

I  he  stars  in  heaven  their  jjolden  bugles  tune, 

I  o  tremblinfi  notes  that  echo  down  the  West, — 
And  lull  the  sinking  sun  at  len^jth  to  rest. 
( )h  beauteous  Summer  nifjht  of  fragrant   |uiie 

I  hat  drawest  nigh  when  Day's  long  march  is  o'er. 

How   welcome   is  thy   sweet   serenity. 

I.lfaced   beneath  thy  grave  tran(piilifv; 

Is  all  earth's  heated  clamor,  rush  and  roar, — 

I  he  heart  reveals  its  secrets  unto  thee. 
.And  in  thine  ear  may  all  its  anguish  pour. 


si'RiNxrs  ^R()l'm•;c•^■ 

With  the  buds  on  the  trees,  and  the  grass  on  the  iiills, 

And  robin  \\ifb  lark  gaii\  cheeping, — 
With  the  Mulcts'  glad  smile  and  the  tune  from  the  rills, 
I  he  heart  of  the  .Spring  should  be  leaping. 

i5iit  I  listen  and  hear  as  she  pipes  thro'  the  wind, 

A  wail  like  a  trumpet  of  w.irning, — 
.A  low  sustained  moan  tliat  no  comfort  can  find. 

Comes  down  thro'  the  dews  of  the  inorning. 

Is  she  blooding  prophetic,  e'en  now  in  her  prime. 

Of  glories  to  vanish  from  sight, 
Hridging  o'er  rosy  Suminer  and  ripe  Harvest  time  — 
lo  V\  mter's  cold   silence   and   night. 

lor  all  tiiio'  the  sunshine,  and  rapture,  and  thrill. 

That    [nilsate  in  each   living  flung, — 
A  sad  undercurrent  mv  ear  catches  still, 

.\  soli  Ml  the  voice  of  the  Spring. 


s:{ 


1  • 


MAD!  I. INI. 

I  In  !(■•.  .1  ten  ■■n  ll\>   l.i.itlui,  .1  sill)  m  liic  wind, 
I  (H    Madriinc  sv.itt    M:iilrlilH    is  (It;i(l, - 

I  In  .   Ikivc  l.iul  luT  ;i\\.r.   ;ill  wiili  Howcrs  tntwincd  — 
W  it!i  till-  p.insitsshc  loviil  :iinl  brifrlu  (l.tisus  iinnbmiil 
Ami  ri.i;^i.mt  ^^llltl•  m^is  jnd  ml. 

I.ikf  .1  !  ul;.iii'  niiiiii  11';  m   junf  shv  u:is  t.iir,, — 

11(1  I  >,  (  s  v.<  If  so  liMniv,   unii  l>liii-, 
W'liilf  ;n  ruli  w.ivv  m;i-s,s  lit  r  dii4,\    hmuii  li.iir, 
1  ill  ..JM.iit  lid  hki-  sli;id<-«s  fli;it  stia!  in  ilic  air 

Wl'cn  davli;'.!ir  to  l:irtli  bids  .idicn. 

And  t!'..  u  n\r  !isi<l  ;i  l.i'^sii-  more  m-ntlc  tli:ni  slu, 

Nui   ("If  wifli  siii-l)  nuik,  timid  irr.nf,    - 
S;  I'  was  Ilk.  tk.  \\(f  1i|iu-IhI!  fliar  lilomns  on  tin-  ka, 
\\';ili  :ts  iu.id  Iniu  so  slul\   oiu   siarcch   can  sff, 
Its  dfik  atf  In  .iiit'lii!  tai-f. 

I  lull  '■   .1  tf.ir  111  tl'f  iira'lu  r,  a  sol.  in  ilii   wind. 

j.il   \i.idflitlf  swi'.f  M.idilnif  IS  diad, 
\!id  r'u   iciif.  iuliini:  luarr  that  rfinains  lure  hiliind, 
Mi  ir.  I  .vf  di.;i  and  ifiuKr  nuist  Inirv  inslinntd    • 

S!!Ui  l.ilf's  luiidiiit  hopts  an  now  iKad. 


I 


Will  Rl  I  OR  I. 

Ail!  win  must  what  is  luaiititul 

(  )n  t  anil  so  soon  dtt'a\ , 
And  all  \\f  lovf  and  i  hmsli  most 

r,i  (luuk  to  tadf  awa\-  ? 

!  lu  smiinifr,  with  its  binis  and  llowfrs, 

SI-.  ds  In  aiitv  ovfr  all. 
It  lil.Hiiiis   II  i'.iorv  lor  a  wlidf, 
I  lu  n  sw.lik,   foiius  tin    I  all. 


S4 


.^_ 


mamam 


HHI 


imn 


Joy  fiinnot  hist,  Imt  imiNt  ^ivc  pl.u  u 

1  o  lui^uisii  .111(1  to  ]),iin. 
As  iiij;lif   siiiifuls  (Jill   il.iunm;;  d.iv 

Ami  sun.^liiiu'  \  Hills  in  r.iin. 

Our  j;i)liliii  visions,  In^li   iili-.ils, 

Olt    IK. II    ;iiul    ic.il    Mtiii; 
^  It,  wliiii  wi  rr\  to  j;r;isp  tla-m,  to! 

I  lii'V    v.inisli  liki'  .1  (liciiii. 

IJut  m.m  ^rows  nol)Ki  ,is  he  siiims 
I- or  lovi'  ;nul  truth  and  iij;ht. 

l.'in  rhou^h  hi-  t;iii  to  itaih  his  .iini, 
Or  ptrish  in  ihf  li[;ht. 

Anil  soiro\v,  tlioui;h  it  wouiiil  thi-  hi'.iit. 
Will   pi-.Ki-   ,iiul  I'oiudilt    111  111:;; 

Wliili-  aiitiiinn,  wiih  its  nmiiL  ami  iiiiii, 
liur  |)aMs  liu-  Was  Im  Spiiii'^. 


lO    \    II  (»\\!  K 

l.itilr    tiowi  I    ii])i)n    tin     It  a. 
Mull   I  staiiii  aiul  !ia/i  on  thif, — 
<  )n  tin   swiff,  upiitiiil  fail-, 

lull   ol   tciuli  list   ap|)iaiiMj;, 

Kvcrniore  to  nu-  nvialm^ 
litautv,  matilikss  povsir,  ami   i;iai.i-. 

I.arK-  lUws  ilrop  soltlv  down. 
Sijintlv  th\-  hrow  thi\  iroun 
\\  ith  a  pv.irlv  iliailiiii; 

And,  with  thanks  h\   trat;ianci-  spokin, 
I  hou  iiiiiMst  tliiir  fair  fokiii 
Ol  a  cli-.u   and  spaikhnt;  pni. 


85 


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win  II  uiiii   I  smIiuIu,  ilail  m  \ir.\v, 
Soiitlus  f<>  list  tlif  vsrarv  «I.<V, 
I  luf  I    ■  <  with  btndtil  lit.ul, 
All  rlu    Aintliki   pif.ils  roltling; 
WluK  Liiul  Sitip  lut  su.iv  IN  linKlmj;, 
I  ill  Niiilit's  sliuilovvv  form  has  H»il. 

Mt.  k.  wliit<-  tlnvv.r,  I  fain  wouM  urow 
I'liir  anil  trtf  tioin  (;inl«-  as  lluu., 
Onwaiil,  .,|'^^alll,  strnmn  Inuli, 

Daily  aililini;  stnn^th  ami  sutttni-ss, 
lillini;  ii|>  litf's  nuonipUfi  111 -s, 
Till  I,  H)",  shall  ilii»>|)  anil  ilii  . 


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^i^•  DIM) 

C'tast ,  rinjiinp  htlls,  what  lan  avail 
^■olll  constant  pittDiis  font  s  ' 

Mv  lovril  ont-  lit--  till  If  colli  ami  Jiaic 
Ami  I'   iilcfh  not  voui   moans. 

riiou  sifihi  st  too  tot  nil,  oh  vMiiil! 

I  lion  sijrjust  hilt   in  vain, 
riial     .  ntif  luait  once  watin  .mil  kiitil 

Kii"As  noi   'ii\   Hint  ami  pain. 

loriMT  luislu.i  ihf  voice  that  sctnuil 

1-ikt-  music  sutt-t  to  mc, 
Korivtr  closcil  those  tvis  that   hcamfil 

With   sta!   'ikf  railiancy. 

.Anil  lActv  summti  hlooiiis  the  rose 

In    Its    acciistonieil    place, 
Ihe  winter  collier  with  frost  ami  snows 
But  ah!  I  miss  that  taie. 


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\vt  though  hentarh  yon  lontly  hill 
I  hy  form  must  hurud  In  , 

Thy  spirit  loM-,  IS  ^Mih  nic  still. 
For  it  lan  ncvt-r  clu'. 

'I  hou  slft'pi'st  thtTi'  all  silinr  rmw 
Whili-  I  on  tarth  ahidf. 

And  \it,  1  till,  oh  lovc.th.ir  thou 
Art  t\ii   hv  my  siili\ 


A  M-.C.IM)  C)!'  WIN!  KR 

A  stream  of  raitidrops  lay  on  t.irth, 

yuii(    ullv   om-   lold    morn, 
VVlun   suddenly  one   lose   and   cried, 

'X<»me,  brothers,  we  are  horn 
I  or  some  g(M>d  purpose,  let  us  rise 

And  ri  jeh  out  toward  the  sky, 
Nor  weary  if  the  road  he  long. 

Nor  deem  the  heights  too  high." 

So  one  and  all  with  courage  rose. 

And   started   their  ascent, 
I  he  sun  liHiked  down  with  heck'ning  rays, 

Noith  wind   hefore  rhem  wtnt. 
I  hroui;h  trackless  space  these  raindrops  moved, 

Noi   I  vcr  gazed  behind. 
Onward   and   upward   still   thev   strove. 

Seeking  that  thev  niight  fiml. 

And  when  thev  reached  the  heights  at  lasf, 
I  hese  simple  raindrops,  lo! 
They  found  they  had  all  been  transfornu d 

lo   beauteous  flakes  of  snow. 
Through  right  giMxl  will  and  patient  toil 
1  hey   had    been    puriHed, 


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And  clad  in  white,  with  st;irry  tiowns, 
1  hiy   roaiiud  tliro'   litavLii   wide. 

They  helped  to  cheer  the  cold  hare  world, 

And  joy  and  heauty  hiin;;. 
And  to  them  was  entrusted  now. 

The  guardianship  of  spring. 
In  happv  hands  they  floated  down. 

And  made  a  mantle  warm, 
'l"o  cover  and  to  shelur  her, 

From   any   earthly    harm. 


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i;vi:mn(;  ai  ml.skoka  i.akls 

Hail,  oh  heauteous  Summer  night, 
St.irs  are  piercins;  Heaven  with  light 

Hushing  moor  and  hill, — ■ 
See  the  moon  iier  tresses  slialces. 
On  the  hlue  .Muskoka  lakes, 

Solemnly  and  still. 

From  the  thousand  little  isles. 
Dotting  the  expanse  for  miles, 

Happy   homes   peep  out, — 
Thro'  the  fir-trees  spires  hreaks 
Light  ujion  Muskoka  lakes, 

(lilding  all  ahout. 

And  the  sun  flushed  in  the  West, 
Seeks  his  crimson  couch  to  rest, 

Lingering  on  and  on, — • 
So  reluctantly  he  takes, 
Farewell  of  Muskoka  lakes 

T'U   the  coming  morn. 


88 


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O'er  the  sliiniimiinji  waters  Hoar, 
Many  a  birch  canoi-  and  boat, 

(jliilin£;  down  the  stream, — 
Rythmic  dip  of  paddles  makes. 
Music  on  Nluskoka  lakes, 

Life  seems  one  sweet  dream. 


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